"I was always good with my hands, and guys were always testing me, like the fastest gun in the West. There was this guy known as Farmer, a real mean dude. He was the head of the Outlaws, and he was looking for me. l was walking along with my mother when he came up. l told my mother, 'Stand over here,' and just made a mess of him. There was maybe a thousand people watching us, and he got up and told me, 'You're good.' He's in jail now. He shot up a disco about a year ago.
One time, we're walking along and I pull this fire alarm, and my mother took off her shoe and hit me in the head with it. I had amnesia for a minute and that shoeprint on my head for a week. To this day, if I see a fire alarm, l cross the street. My mother kept me straight. My father was real strict, but l was a hard-headed guy and never listened to nobody. I couldn't listen to him for the simple reason it's survival of the fittest out there. I grew up fast."
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was born Eddie Gregory but changed his name when he converted to Islam, great fighter, started out at middle and moved up to light heavy and mixed it up with some real carnivores, the most stacked era in the divisions history, beat Marvin "Pops" Johnson for the WBA light heavyweight title in 1980.
The Sweet Science
Closer Look: Eddie Mustafa Muhammad
July 8th, 2008
By: Robert Mladinich
It is hard to imagine anyone more at peace with himself than former WBA light heavyweight champion Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Fighting professionally from 1972 to 1990, he amassed a record of 50-8-1 (39 KOS) against the likes of such champions as Victor Galindez, Matthew Saad Muhammad, Marvin Johnson, Michael Spinks, Ricky Parkey and Slobodan Kacar.
Although he won his title by scoring a devastating 11th round knockout over Johnson, and lost it four fights later by controversial decision to Spinks, the most satisfying victory of his career was his eighth round knockout of unheralded Mario Rosa at Madison Square Garden’s Felt Forum in November 1974.
Rosa, who was 15-4 going into the bout, dropped Mustafa Muhammad, who was still fighting under his birth name of Eddie Gregory, in both the sixth and seventh rounds.
“Rosa was on a three bout winning streak, and I only had 11 fights at the time,” said the now 56-year-old Muhammad over the July 4th weekend at the Top Rank Gym in Las Vegas where he currently trains fighters.
“I was relatively inexperienced and they (Muhammad’s management) were starting to push me,” he continued. “Rosa was beating everyone up. It was a make or break fight for me. He knocked me down twice, but I came back and knocked him out.”
Because Muhammad was such a gifted amateur, he says he was forced to learn on the job. The son of a New York City housing policeman, he began his amateur career at the Howard Houses gym in Brownsville, Brooklyn, under the guidance of the hard-nosed Al Fischetti.
Fischetti, who became like a father figure to Muhammad, churned out top amateurs in much the same fashion that Emanuel Steward did at Detroit’s fabled Kronk Gym in the late 1970s.
Besides Muhammad, whose vaunted right hand made him the star of the stable, there was Forest Ward, who became a Pan American Games champion, Alvin Weeks and Charley Hunter.
“It was a great gym, and Al was a great trainer,” said Muhammad. “I loved the competition and I loved the camaraderie.”
Every Saturday Muhammad and his teammates would meet for a run through their beleaguered neighborhood. Afterwards they would all head over to a local donut shop where they’d gorge themselves while breaking each other’s chops.
Considering that they were living in a neighborhood that decades earlier had spawned Murder Incorporated and was now awash with drugs and crime, Muhammad says that boxing served him well. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for some of his teammates.
One of them, a sensational welterweight named Shoebe Streets developed a severe drug habit that resulted in him robbing numerous banks while wearing a mink coat. Week after week the newspapers and television news stations show blurry photos of the bandit in action.
Muhammad, Fischetti and others at the gym knew who the perpetrator was because Streets would often come to the gym dressed in the same coat that he wore just hours earlier during his latest robbery. On some occasions he would distribute crisp new bills to his friends at the gym.
“He would jump over the teller with his mink coat on,” said Muhammad. “We all knew it was him. I’m surprised it took the cops so long to catch him. Al Fischetti told him he couldn’t come to the gym anymore, but we never thought of turning him in. My father was a policeman, but I came from the hood and in the hood the last thing you do is snitch. Back then, that never even crossed your mind.”
From Muhammad’s first day in the gym, he was told that he could become a world champion. While he enjoyed all of the attention that his tremendous right hand brought him, he realizes now that he never had the chance to fully develop. His right hand was so powerful, he would often toy with sparring partners until Fischetti yelled “NOW,” which was the signal for Muhammad to drop the hammer.
“That was usually the end of sparring for the day,” said Muhammad. “It sounds great, but the fact is I never really had a chance to grow. Everyone was always telling me I was gonna be this and I was gonna be that.”
For a time, Muhammad considered following his father into a law enforcement career. He was a police trainee with Bo Dietl, who later became a decorated detective and the subject of the book and film “One Tough Cop.” Today Dietl runs one of the biggest private investigation agencies in the world, and is a talking head on the MSNBC news channel.
“I realized police work was not for me,” said Muhammad. “Once I started boxing, that was all that turned me on. That’s all I wanted to do with my life.”
Muhammad was always too emotionally grounded to become full of himself, but he was disappointed when he lost to Jesse Valdez in the 1972 Olympic Trials.
“I knocked him down, but he was in the Air Force and I think they wanted a military guy representing the United States instead of a kid from Brownsville,” said Muhammad.
Muhammad declined the offer to go to Munich as an Olympic alternative and turned pro in September 1972. Although such esteemed boxing people as Gil Clancy, Freddie Brown and Ray Arcel all said he was a surefire champion, Muhammad insists that their praise never went to his head.
“I’m not being braggadocious, but that just made me train harder,” said Muhammad. “I was determined to make their words come true. Once I knew that I could make money with these hands, I didn’t take anything for granted.”
Fighting throughout the New York metropolitan area, as well as once in France where he drew with local favorite Nessim Max Cohen, he had amassed a 10-0-1 (6 KOS) when he squared off against Rosa.
Afterwards he took an arduous road to prominence, fighting four straight times in Philadelphia against tough opponents. In the last of those encounters, he lost a split decision to local icon Bennie Briscoe.
“Me and Marvin Hagler came up the hard way,” said Muhammad. “We both went through Philadelphia to prove ourselves. Not a lot of fighters were willing to do that.”
In March 1977, Muhammad returned to the City of Brotherly Love to battle Matthew Saad Muhammad. This time he left with a split decision victory. To this day, he says Saad Muhammad, who is now in the Hall of Fame, is the hardest puncher he has ever faced.
Two fights later, in November 1977, Muhammad traveled to Italy where lost a decision to WBA light heavyweight champion Victor Galindez. He rebounded with 13 victories, as well as a loss to James Scott inside the walls of Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, where Scott was serving a long sentence for murder.
When he signed to fight Marvin Johnson, who then held the WBA title, in March 1980, Muhammad’s co-trainer, Slim Robinson, devised the perfect game plan.
“I had a great team,” said Muhammad. “Al Fischetti was an in-your-face guy, which I needed when I was young. Chickie Ferrara was always the quiet, reassuring voice in the corner and Slim could choreograph a fight perfectly.”
Against the southpaw Johnson, Robinson told Muhammad to step to the side every time the champion threw a right jab and use his left hand to go to the body and head.
“The plan was to draw him into my right hand,” said Muhammad, who dropped Johnson in a heap after landing a devastating right hand to the body to take Johnson’s title.
Muhammad did not see Johnson again for 25 years, but when they were reunited in 2005 Johnson told him that he was “really hurt, physically,” from that debilitating punch.
After defending his title against Rudy Koopmans and losing a split decision to Renaldo Snipes in an ill-advised non-title heavyweight bout, Muhammad was matched with Michael Spinks in July 1981. Although he was dropped by Spinks and lost a unanimous decision, Muhammad still believes that he did enough to win.
By this time Muhammad had become good friends with football legend Jim Brown. Muhammad said that Brown, as well as his parents, Fischetti and Muhammad Ali, all had a profound effect on his development as a human being. He cites Brown’s “strength of character” as his greatest asset.
When Muhammad was fighting Lotte Mwale in Las Vegas in October 1981, Brown told him he wanted to attend. Muhammad was in prime shape, so he told Brown to get there early. When he finally saw Brown at the arena, Muhammad was munching on a hot dog. Brown was aghast because he did not know that Muhammad had already knocked Mwale out in the fourth round.
“I told him to get there early,” laughed Muhammad. “I was feeling great that night. I think I would have knocked out anyone.”
Muhammad would have one more shot at a title in December 1985, but he lost a split decision to Kacar in Italy. Three years and three fights later, he retired for good after being stopped in three rounds by journeyman Arthel Lawhorne at a hotel in Newark, New Jersey.
“When I started boxing, I always said the day I get stopped is the day I would quit,” said Muhammad. “I stuck to my word.”
The reality is that the loss to Lawthorne could be most attributed to the fact that Muhammad had recently lost his brother, who had worked his corner on numerous occasions, to AIDS. Although the brother had been a drug user, he and Muhammad were tight.
“I looked in my corner and my brother wasn’t there,” said Muhammad. “I got hit, went down, got up, said I was alright, and (referee) Larry Hazzard stopped the fight. He did the right thing. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. It was a relief.”
Muhammad is the first to admit that he didn’t stick around long enough to have an unhappy ending to his career. The game has been very good to him. Besides winning a world title and earning good money, he was cast as Billy Fox in the classic film “Raging Bull,” which starred Robert DeNiro as Jake LaMotta.
“Making the movie was a lot of hard work,” said Muhammad. “We would do take after take and the rehearsal was just as hard as the action.”
Muhammad has the utmost respect for DeNiro, who he says, “made you feel like you knew him your whole life.”
Muhammad and former welterweight Johnny Turner, who also had a role in the film as boxer Laurent Dauthille, had a lot of fun one evening at the expense of Frank and Eva Shain, two New York fight fixtures who also had roles in the movie.
With Muhammad in tow, Turner donned a frightening mask and crept up to the Shains’ hotel room door in the middle of the night. When Frank Shain answered the door, Turner, who had been bent down, jumped up and let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Frank almost had a heart attack,” laughed Muhammad. “Thank God he didn’t, but it was a close call.”
These days Muhammad is busy training fighters, including undefeated WBC light heavyweight champion Chad Dawson, former heavyweight title challenger Michael Grant, cruiserweight Aaron Williams, and welterweight sensation Said El-Harrak, 1-0, a Moroccan who Muhammad said has all the makings of a champion.
He hopes to leave as indelible impression on them as his trainers, as well as others who drifted in and out of his life like Archie Moore and Charley Burley, did for him.
After just a week with Dawson, Muhammad was told by the current champion that he had boosted his confidence to levels that he could never have imagined. Hearing that was music to Muhammad’s ears.
“This is what I do, what I love more than anything,” said Muhammad. “If I can help people reach their goals, I’m very happy. That is what I live for. If you come to me and want to work, I’ll be happy to work ten times harder to help you attain your goals.”
He also lives for his beloved wife and nine children, all of whom are self-sufficient with rewarding careers of his own. He has a good relationship with each and every one of them.
Being a devout Muslim has caused Muhammad to closely monitor the direction in which he believes the United States is heading. A devout watcher of MSNBC, he refuses to malign President Bush but politely says that, “the president is not always right.”
He says the American invasion of Iraq was a terrible mistake, and is uncomfortable with the criticism leveled at presidential candidate Barack Obama because of his Muslim lineage.
“If Obama is Muslim, so what?” said Muhammad. “Is it bad to be a Muslim? I’m a Muslim and I hate what the terrorists did on 9/11. Every time I’m in New York, I go to Ground Zero and say a prayer. I’m not a political person, but I know right from wrong. Religious extremists of all kinds give their religion a bad name.”
Although Muhammad watches Ultimate Fighting, he is very concerned that a participant is going to be seriously maimed or killed in the near future.
“As a fan of contact sports, I like it,” said Muhammad. “But sometimes these guys are on the ground, out cold, and they’re still getting hit. Society likes blood, but maybe they should have some more safeguards like headgear.”
Another safeguard Muhammad is committed to is the unionization of boxing. Too many boxers leave too much of themselves in the ring. In the end, they often have little or nothing to show for it.
He is currently the president of the Joint Association of Boxers (JAB), a boxing union under the auspices of the Teamsters union that is trying to establish pension plans for fighters that are similar to those available to ballplayers. He has the full support of Teamsters president Jimmy Hoffa Jr., whom he considers a dear friend.
“This is a long time coming, but something that boxers deserve,” said Muhammad, “There’s been some resistance, but I’m determined to see this through. With the backing of the Teamsters, we’ll send you to school, get you a job, allow you to keep your dignity.”
Whether or not Muhammad is ever elected into the Hall of Fame is subject to conjecture. As far as he’s concerned though, he has already got more out of boxing than he ever put in.
“Brooklyn and boxing made me who I am,” he said. “I could have went this way, and I could have went that way. Boxing made me go the right way. One of the things that attracted me was there is no racism in boxing. It doesn’t matter what country you are from or what color your skin is. In the gym and in the ring, everyone is equal.
“What I am most proud of is that I made my family proud,” he continued. “My success in the ring was for them, not for me. Where I came from, Brownsville, the odds were stacked against you. If I had just fought one round as a pro, and it made my parents proud, that would have been enough.”
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad (then Eddie Gregory) defeated Matthew Saad Muhammad (then Matthew Franklin) by a 10-round split decision on March 11, 1977, in Philadelphia. Although Saad Muhammad scored a first-round knockdown, Mustafa Muhammad rallied to win the decision in a heavily debated fight. Matthew Saad Muhammad was just coming into his own at this point in his career and Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was a bit more experienced. It would have been awesome watching these two go at it with both fighters in their absolute prime. Saad Muhammad had legendary recuperative powers and was a killer in the later rounds of a fight, and Mustafa Muhammad was one of the best ever at pacing himself during a fight and would still be fresh in the later rounds. Both fighters were made of iron and carried brutal power. This is one fight I would pay good money to see. Nice shot here showing Eddie Mustafa Muhammad catching Matthew Saad Muhammad with a vicious right hand.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, then known as Eddie Gregory, became a world champion when he won the WBA light heavyweight title with an 11th round TKO of Marvin "Pops" Johnson at the Stokley Athletics Center in Knoxville, Tennessee March 31st, 1980.
Johnson was a tough and hard-hitting light heavyweight with experience, but he was unlucky early in the fight: in round 3, Muhammad stepped on his foot and caught Johnson with a punch, sending him down and keeping him hurt for much of the round. Then in the 5th round, Johnson began bleeding profusely from his nose.
Muhammad rocked Johnson a number of times after that. Muhammad then picked his shots, but he made the ones he threw count. In the 10th round, Muhammad wobbled Johnson and the end appeared to be approaching. In round 11, Muhammad landed a shot that rocked Johnson back and forced the referee to end matters.
"Everybody knocked my ability and said I didn't have the ability to become world champion," Muhammad said. "Well, I just knocked out the world champion. Now I'm going to prove I'm the best light heavyweight of all time."
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad tore Marvin Johnson's body all to hell in this fight, Muhammad was a ruthless body puncher. Below are two epic photos from the fight, the top photo shows Muhammad digging to Johnson with a brutal uppercut and the second photo shows Marvin Johnson with his trunk covered in blood.
Credit Associated Press
"Eddie Gregory of New York, won the WBA light heavyweight championship Monday night when he stopped Marvin Johnson at 2:43 of the 11th round. Recording the 30th knockout of his career, Gregory sent the champion staggering with a flurry of blows to the head, landing at will, that forced referee Carlos Berrocal of Panama to stop the fight. Gregory scored the only knockdown in the fight in the 3rd round when a left to the body lifted Johnson off the canvas and was followed immediately with a right to the chin that caught the champion before he recovered from the initial blow. Johnson had carried the fight to Gregory in the early rounds, but the challenger took charge in the 7th round, repeatedly landing combinations to the body and head. Johnson appeared to be in serious trouble in the 10th when Gregory landed a vicious right to the belly."
Ringside physician Dr. Robert Whittle sent Johnson for X-rays and it was disclosed Johnson suffered a separated rib.
Promoters cut Gregory's purse before the contest from $50,000 to $25,000.
Post-fight comment:
"I didn't come here for a fight, I just came here to pick up my title. They made me suffer to get this. I defied the boxing world and they have to come to me now." - Eddie Gregory
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was an ruthless body puncher, frequently using a sustained, tactical attack on the ribs and hips to break down opponents. His 11th-round TKO victory over Marvin Johnson is a prime example of his "kill the body and the head will die" approach, showcasing brutal, consistent, and effective body shots to secure the WBA Light Heavyweight title. This is a great in-depth analysis of how Eddie Mustafa Muhammad beat Marvin Johnson by methodically breaking his body down. I love this stuff.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad – Breaking down an Opponent
JULY 22, 2022 / BOXING, VIDEOS / BY FAYZ
Taking Away the Legs
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad fought in a period which can be defined as the greatest era of Light Heavyweight Boxing. Alongside Mustafa there was Dwight Qawi, Matthew Saad Muhammad, John Conteh, Michael Spinks, Victor Galindez, Marvin Johnson and more – an extremely deep pool of talented fighters.
In this article and ensuing video I am having a look at how Mustafa broke down Marvin Johnson by targeting the hips. By punching the hips Mustafa was slowing Johnson down because by hitting the hips the legs will not be able to move as freely which means you now have a more stationary opponent in front of you, this is of course very beneficial if your opponent is someone who likes to dance around the ring.
We can see how Mustafa first targeted the hips with the slip and counter to the body – with Johnson forcing the pace this was a good strategy to slow him down as Mustafa didn’t have to go looking for him. Mustafa would target the hips and eventually forced a knockdown when the legs of Johnson simply gave way from taking too many punches to the hips.
From there Mustafa had hit the hips so much it created openings elsewhere. Mustafa could hit the hips with the hooks opening up the guard of Johnson and then slide an uppercut up the middle, he could also feint a shot to the hips and then punch high to the head and of course after suffering so many punches to the body Johnson looked to cover up the body allowing Mustafa to then target the head – this is also because when someone looks to protect their body they tend to stop their head movement.
This was one of the best demonstrations I have seen at effectively slowing down an opponent, the body punches and hip shots were brutal and these punches stick with you for the rest of the fight so it just built up over the course of the following rounds serving to slow Johnson down and Mustafa was able to almost surgically take him apart and finish him off.
My god those Muhammad body shots on Johnson are a thing of beauty, one after another, just chopped him down like a tree. I love this photo of Eddie Mustafa Muhammad going to the body of Marvin Johnson with an ice-cold look on his face.
And what makes it even more impressive is the fact that Marvin Johnson was a great fighter and dangerous as hell, a hard hitter who waged war with Matthew Saad Muhammad twice, and was a not even a year removed from taking out Victor "The Animal" Galindez. And of course you have to credit Muhammad's co-trainer Slim Robinson, brilliant strategy.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad defeated Jerry "The Bull" Martin by 10th-round TKO on July 20, 1980, at the Playboy Resort in McAfee, NJ. This was a WBA Light Heavyweight title fight where Muhammad successfully made his first title defense.
Mustafa Muhammad Keeps Title; Champion Slows the Pace
By: Michael Katz
Special To the New York Times
July 21, 1980
MCAFEE, N.J., July 20
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, saying it was "so nice and easy" that he became bored, stopped Jerry Martin in the 10th round today in defense of his World Boxing Association light-heavyweight title. The champion, however, was not the only person at the Playboy Resort and Country Club who was bored by the unexpectedly one-sided contest. An overhand right, which followed a left jab, sent Martin down for the second time in the fight, and only the second time in his career, late in the 10th. He got up but Referee Tony Perez halted the bout at 2 minutes 25 seconds as Mustafa Muhammad had the 26- year-old native of Antigua helpless against the ropes.
Champion Slows the Pace
Mustafa Muhammad, in his first fight since changing his name from Eddie Gregory, sent Martin down for the first time late in the fourth with a barrage begun with a right. Martin staggered to his feet at the bell and Slim Jim Robinson, the champion's trainer, lifted Mustafa Muhammad into the air. "Put me down, the fight's not over yet!" yelled the champion. Robinson might have been shocked that the fight was not over, but the crowd of about 1,000 was perhaps more surprised when Mustafa Muhammad did not end it shortly thereafter. He continued battering Martin early in the fifth, but the champion has never fought like a man in a hurry, and he slowed the pace to a crawl.
“He certainly took his time about it, said Matthew Saad Muhammad, who holds the World Boxing Council's version of the 175-pound title. "Eddie just took his time and did it right," said Thomas Hearns, here to publicize his Aug. 2 welterweight title shot against José (Pipino) Cuevas. He did it right and he did it convincingly against an opponent given an excellent chance by many experts. He also did it in slow motion, compared with the recent Saad Muhammad-Yaqui Lopez fight. But Mustafa Muhammd, who has been boxing more than a dozen years, had reasoned that he would have little problems with a man who has been boxing only four years. “I expected an easy fight, not taking anything away from Jerry Martin,” he said. "Sometimes a fight gets so easy you get bored. I could hit him with a jab anytime I wanted. Once I caught myself thinking, 'Oh man, what am I doing here?'"
In front of such ring luminaries as Muhammad Ali, with whom he had trained at Deer Lake, Pa.; Hilmer Kenty, the W.B.A. lightweight champion, and undefeated Gerry Cooney, Mustafa Muhammad put on a technically correct but unexciting performance. He took few chances with a dangerous but outclassed opponent. He outboxed Martin in the middle of the ring and when the man nicknamed The Bull charged to get inside, Mustafa Muhammad usually sidestepped and made Martin pay for that aggression. "Nine times out of 10," said the champion, "the matador usually gets the bull."
Surprisingly, he was outscoring Martin on only two of the three official scorecards. Harold Lederman, one judge, had the fight even after nine rounds on the 10-point scoring system, 85-85. Perez had Muhammad in front, 87-83, and Eva Shain, the other judge, had the champion ahead, 88-82. The New York Times scorecard gave Muhammad six rounds and Martin two, with one even.
Martin, who said his mistake was “laying back,” gained his title shot by outpointing previously undefeated James Scott, the prison inmate at Rahway, N.J. Scott had beaten Mustafa Muhammad in 1978. This was only Martin's second loss against 19 victories. His career almost ended two and a half years ago when he was arrested in Philadelphia as an illegal alien.
For Mustafa Muhammad, who has been fighting professionally since 1972, it was his 37th victory, 31st by knockout, against four losses and a draw. Both fighters weighed 175, the division limit. Mustafa Muhammad said he wanted to fight Scott “most of all," but also wanted to become the first light-heavyweight champion to win the heavyweight title.
Bob Arum, the promoter, is building for an eventual showdown between the two Muhammads to unify the 175-pound title.
That New York Times article hit the nail on the head, Eddie Mustafa Muhammad fought like he wasn't in a hurry, took his sweet time taking his opponents apart, and that helped him have ridiculous reserves of stamina, the kind of fighter that could still be completely fresh going into the 15th, I love watching him fight. Here are some photos from the Jerry "The Bull" Martin fight.
And I'll get into Jerry "The Bull" Martin later in the thread, fascinating fighter himself, went the distance with Marvin Johnson, gave Matthew Saad Muhammad all he could handle, and licked James Scott at Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, dropping him twice in the process, and Scott was no joke, he was beating everyone they threw at him at Rahway.
Speaking of James Scott, Eddie Mustafa Muhammad went there in 1978 and fought Scott. The fight took place at Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, where James Scott was an inmate, he was serving a sentence of 30 to 40 years for armed robbery. The fight was held in the same auditorium at Rahway State Prison where seven years earlier convicts waged a bloody riot and seized six hostages, including the warden. Over 450 paying customers from outside the prison walls sat in the audience while virtually Rahway's entire inmate population watched the fight on three large screens set up in the Drill Hall. The fight was televised live on HBO. Eddie Gregory, who would change his name to Eddie Mustafa Muhammad after winning the WBA light heavyweight title in 1980, entered the fight as the WBA's No. 1-ranked light heavyweight contender.
Gregory was a 4 to 1 betting favorite. Gregory said before the fight: "They say Scott is tough, but how tough can he be? So he fought a couple of stiffs inside the walls and he knocked them out. He hasn't had a real pro fight in almost four years. And now he wants to fight the top contender. You know he's got to be crazy. He's been in here too long. It happens when you stay in these places too long. I'll carry him for 11 rounds and knock him out in the 12th. It'll be a good workout." Pat Putnam of Sports Illustrated reported: "Scott took charge from the start, swarming over Gregory at close quarters, firing punishing hooks from both sides. In the fourth round, he raised an ugly lump under Gregory's left eye. . . . Scott won the fifth round, then coasted through the sixth and seventh, which he lost on all cards. From Round 8 on, he resumed command and never let up. Always it was the same: inside and savage. At the end, with his corner screaming for him to go for a knockout, Gregory was barely able to hang on." Jimmy DiPiano, the father and manager of WBC light heavyweight champion Mike Rossman, was ringside. After the fight, DiPiano was asked if he would allow his son to enter Rahway State Prison and grant Scott a title shot. DiPiano said, "It's going to take an awful, awful lot of money before I'll let my son in the same ring with that monster."
Harold Lederman, who was one of the official judges for the fight, recalled in 2012: "On that day, I thought James Scott was the greatest light heavyweight I ever saw in my life. That's how great he was. On that one day when he beat Gregory, he was the best light heavyweight I ever saw. I never saw a performance like that — anywhere. I don't think Bob Foster was as good as that. I don't think Archie Moore was that good. He was prepared like I never saw in my life." This is a photo of Eddie Mustafa Muhammad and James Scott inside Rahway State Prison during their fight. The thing about Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, his tendency to take his time with opponents could be his undoing at times. If a fighter was hyper-aggessive and overwhelmed him, you had a chance against Muhammad, if not then chances are Muhammad was going to methodically take you apart. Scott was aggressive as hell. One thing about Muhammad, he was tough as a Dollar Store steak, you couldn't take the guy out no matter how much punishment you dealt him. He was stopped once in 59 fights, his last fight, and that was because his heart wasn't in it because his brother had just died.
On July 18, 1981, the Imperial Palace Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, hosted a pivotal boxing match between Eddie Mustafa Muhammad and Michael Spinks for the WBA World Light Heavyweight Title. Promoted by Butch Lewis and refereed by Richard Green, this bout marked a significant turning point in the careers of both fighters.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, with a record of 38-5-1, was the reigning champion, having returned to the light heavyweight division after a failed attempt to compete in the heavyweight category. He weighed in at 175 pounds for the fight.
Michael Spinks, undefeated at 16-0-0 and weighing 173¾ pounds, was a rising star and a former Olympic gold medallist in the middleweight division. This was his 17th professional fight, and he was looking to dethrone Muhammad to claim the title.
The fight was intense and closely contested, with both fighters displaying their skills. Muhammad started strong, landing several good combinations and jabs, particularly in the early rounds. However, as the fight progressed, Spinks's aggression and punching power began to take its toll on Muhammad.
By the later rounds, Muhammad was visibly fatigued, but he showed remarkable courage and gameness in continuing to fight despite the punishment he was taking. Spinks, on the other hand, was relentless, landing several hard blows that included a devastating right that resulted in the first knockdown of the fight in the eighth round.
Despite Muhammad's valiant efforts to survive, Spinks dominated the final rounds, showcasing his superior punching power and endurance. The judges' scores reflected Spinks's dominance: Judge Duane Ford scored 146-138, Judge Lou Tabat scored 144-140, and Judge Charles Spampinato scored 145-139, all in favour of Michael Spinks.
This victory marked a significant milestone for Spinks, as he became the new WBA World Light Heavyweight Champion, solidifying his position as a formidable force in the light heavyweight division. The fight highlighted Spinks's potential and set the stage for his future successes, including his eventual move to the heavyweight division.
Let me first start off by saying, Michael Spinks was never beaten at light heavyweight, you're talking about maybe the greatest light heavy ever, there's not many fighters in the history of this sport I would pick to beat a prime Michael Spinks at light heavyweight. He was that great. Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was actually ahead on the scorecards up until about the 8th when Spinks turned up the voltage and became aggressive. In the 12th, Spinks caught Muhammad with a right hand, the "Jinx", and floored him. After that it was obvious that Muhammad was fighting hurt, and Spinks smelled blood in the water and went ape$hit trying to finish him. He hit Muhammad with everything and the kitchen sink but couldn't put him away, too damn tough. I swear, I'll never know how Muhammad made it to the final bell, he was made of material not of this Earth. At one point in the 12th, Spinks hit him with over 60 unanswered shots before Muhammad started firing back and still couldn't put him away. Eddie Mustafa Muhammad finished on his feet and lost a unanimous decision. But my god, what a display of sheer toughness by Muhammad. Here are the highlights from this classic.
This is a photo of a young Eddie Mustafa Muhammad knocking out Tom Seisinger in 1969 in a preliminary at St. Anthony of Padua in Queens, New York. He would later beat Vito Antuofermo for the 147-lb open title.
This is an awesome item that Eddie Mustafa Muhammad autographed using his old nickname, "The Flame." Interestingly, it shows a photo of him during his fight with "Cyclone" Eugene Hart in 1974, I've been looking for a photo from that fight, Eugene Hart was an absolute murderous left hook artist. Muhammad actually won the fight against Hart by brutal KO in the 4th, like the caption says, Muhammad was a thunderous puncher himself.
"I ever tell you how I became a fighter? There was this sergeant from Texas in our company, and he wanted to know if there was a mensch in the whole outfit. I had to show him. When l got back to Brockton, Massachussetts, and started in the amateurs, Mom yelled at me, 'Rocky, you've been fighting, haven't you?''
''No, l haven't Mom. What makes you think that?''
''Rocky,' she answered, 'your nose is getting flatter.''
Wicked image of "The Cuban Hawk" Kid Gavilan about the hit Eugene "Silent" Hairston with a bolo punch. Look at Gavilan's arm freakishly recoiled and Hairston bracing for impact, damn what a photo.
The famous Jack Dempsey's Broadway Restaurant, owned by the heavyweight boxing champion, was located in the Brill Building on Broadway between 49th and 50th Streets in Manhattan, New York City. Established in 1935 (originally on Eighth Avenue) and moved to Broadway in 1947, it was a iconic Midtown spot until it closed in 1974.
Max Boxing
In Search of Jack Dempsey: A bar and a nail
March 16th, 2021
By: Khadi Madama
Stunned momentarily, I turned around to see who it was, but before I could utter a word, my father said hello to Jack Dempsey, who by now was smiling down at me.
So, I’m in bar in New York, sipping my cocktail and devouring a steak in a restaurant on Broadway just minding my own business. It wasn’t long before I was startled by a very big and heavy hand connecting to the back of my chair.
Stunned momentarily, I turned around to see who it was, but before I could utter a word, my father said hello to Jack Dempsey, who by now was smiling down at me. Did I mention that at the time, I was sipping a Shirley Temple? After all I was a mere nine years old and it was 1957.
I had absolutely no idea who Jack Dempsey was. No idea that he was at the center of maybe the most controversial boxing match in the history of the sport, still referenced and talked about to this day, The Long Count.
I also had no idea that THE Manassa Mauler was this friendly, warm, smiling man who gave me a souvenir of my visit. A tiny pair of leather boxing gloves with Dempsey’s printed on its attached ribbon. It became one of my favorite treasures because as a girl of 9, I loved tiny things. Lost in a house fire in the 1960’s, it took me more than 40 years to finally replace them when by sheer luck someone was selling a pair from his private stock. They were $40.00. A bargain. One dollar for each year.
I paid it gratefully and now they grace the Boxing Media & Press Office here in New Jersey along with a vintage authentic “Kewpie” Doll pin, exactly like the one Jack Dempsey wore on his coat for good luck when strolling the street outside his restaurant each morning. It’s adorning the drapes behind Eamo Clyne’s desk.
I never forgot Dempsey after that first meeting, and when I was a in my teens, I acquired an 8 mm film clip of The Long Count, which is now transferred to DVD. I list Dempsey as my number 1 favorite all-time boxer along with Joe Louis because I can’t choose one over the other. Classic Joe fights always bring me to tears, but Dempsey I had met, spoken with and was treated as if I were a grown up in a bar restaurant where, as a young girl, I could have felt out of my element.
Not with Dempsey. It was obvious that he loved to be with the patrons in his establishment and to make sure that they enjoyed his food and were well looked after.
In 1974 due to circumstances beyond Dempsey’s control, the restaurant closed. An icon, a gathering place, was now gone and as time went by, its memory faded at least just a little from my memory until Eamo Clyne got to the Jersey shore and we took up looking for boxing in places where no one would dream of finding it.
Eamo Clyne has a large following and somewhere along the line someone must have messaged me to let me in on the secret that one third of Dempsey’s original Broadway bar was bought by owners of a restaurant in nearby Pine Beach, NJ. The establishment was known as the Lamp Post Inn and it’s been there ever since with an autographed picture of Dempsey right behind it above the bar.
Could have knocked me over with a feather, as it’s only five minutes from my home and I never knew.
What we needed was a plan. We wanted a part of the bar, anything, a chip of wood, a rubbing of the wood design, a loose screw. We were like two heat-seeking missiles, or two mice in search of cheese.
Not a drinking gal, I had enough seltzer and Eamo enough Guinness slowly nursed, to re-flood Brisbane. We tried this on two different attempts and wondered what Willie Sutton would have done in a case like this. We wanted a chip off the old block as a souvenir and our situation was becoming dire as I tried to wiggle a lose nail out of its hole to no avail, while Eamo chatted people up to create a diversion.
The nail was unrelenting and I was never able to free it from the hard mahogany. Only a few months later, the restaurant sold and was closed for repairs. Then all hell broke loose and we were in the middle of a long haul with the pandemic of 2020. To this day in 2021, the Lamp Post Inn has still not opened although it has been fully renovated and Jack’s bar is still there.
Terrified that the new owners would throw the old bar out, I made it a point to check on it periodically. It wasn’t until late fall of 2020 that a construction crew was there working on the roof, and due to the balmy weather, the door to the bar was open. I slipped in unnoticed, into the still under construction bar, I telephoned my partner in crime, Eamo Clyne who’s currently in Dublin, to tell him that I was surreptitiously going inside to get that darn nail.
After all, the workers were far up on the roof and had no idea I was even there. Also, the nail in question was a safety hazard, protruding out from underneath the bar. I deemed that I was rendering a service by removing it, if I could. I carefully approached the place where the sharp protrusion had been but to my grand disappointment, the nail was gone. All the nails were gone and all replaced by screws.
Dejected at having failed the mission, I exited the bar and finally got to speak with the crew. They had no idea when the bar would open. I’ve been in touch with the owner who will let me know when he’s going to open so that I can interview him and do a new article about The Lamp Post Inn and Jack’s bar, which is a good thing.
He has no idea that when I do get to go inside to give him an interview, that while I’m sitting at the bar sipping a Shirley Temple with my framed picture of Dempsey beside me, I’ll be working out how I’m going to get a piece of that bar before I leave.
''I thank God every day to have come through my boxing career in good shape. I also give thanks for never causing an opponent's deaťh or serious injury. It's pretty well documented that most head traumas in boxing are caused by an accumulation of punches. l usually got the job done with just one or two.''
Phenomenal image of Earnie Shavers in his prime, arguably the hardest one-shot puncher in boxing history.
Shavers: The Legendary Hardest Hitter Who Struck Fear Into Opponents
In the world of professional boxing, there have been countless legends, each with their unique style and accomplishments. Among them, one name stands out for his ferocious power and relentless determination: Earnie Shavers. Often referred to as “The Acorn,” Shavers was not only one of the hardest hitters in boxing history, but he also had a legendary training regimen and an unforgettable record. In this article, we’ll explore the awe-inspiring career of Earnie Shavers, the Hall of Famer who will forever be remembered for his incredible punching power.
Earnie Shavers: The hardest hitter in boxing
Earnie Shavers was a heavyweight boxer who gained his reputation as one of the hardest hitters to ever grace the squared circle. His punching power was nothing short of legendary, and opponents feared the devastating force he could unleash with a single blow. Shavers possessed the kind of power that could turn the tide of a fight in an instant, leaving his adversaries in awe of his might.
Shavers’ punching power wasn’t just a product of genetics; it was the result of years of hard work and dedication. He had a natural gift for punching, but he honed that gift through relentless training and discipline, which only added to his reputation as a fearsome opponent.
The Crazy Training Schedule
Earnie Shavers was a true workhorse when it came to training. His training regimen was nothing short of grueling, and it played a pivotal role in shaping him into the feared puncher he became. Shavers would often spend countless hours in the gym, focusing on perfecting his technique, building strength, and improving his stamina.
One of Shaver’s’ signature training routines involved hitting the heavy bag with incredible force. He would wear specially designed gloves filled with lead pellets to increase the weight, making his punches even more powerful. This extreme form of training not only toughened his fists but also improved his overall punching technique.
Legendary Record
Earnie Shavers’ professional record is a testament to his greatness as a heavyweight boxer. Throughout his career, he faced some of the best fighters of his era, and his record boasts an impressive number of victories, many of them coming by way of knockout. His ability to end fights with a single punch was something that set him apart from his contemporaries.
Shavers boxing record: won 74 professional bouts (68 by knockout), lost 14, and fought to one draw
One of Shavers’ most famous fights was against the legendary Muhammad Ali in 1977. Although he didn’t win the fight, he managed to knock Ali down in the second round, showcasing his incredible power. Shavers’ record includes wins over other notable opponents such as Jimmy Ellis and Ken Norton.
Hall of Famer and Legacy
In 1995, Earnie Shavers was rightfully inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. His legacy as one of the hardest hitters in the history of the sport was firmly cemented, and he continues to be celebrated by boxing enthusiasts around the world.
Earnie Shavers will forever be remembered for his extraordinary punching power, his relentless training schedule, and his legendary record. His reputation was so fearsome that even the great George Foreman, known for his own devastating power, avoided facing Shavers during his prime. Foreman once famously said, “Earnie Shavers hit me so hard, he shook my kinfolk back in Africa.”
Earnie Shavers, “The Acorn,” was more than just a heavyweight boxer; he was a force of nature in the ring. His incredible punching power, insane training regimen, and legendary record all contribute to his status as one of boxing’s all-time greats. Shaver’s’ legacy will continue to inspire future generations of boxers, and his name will forever be etched in the annals of boxing history as one of the hardest hitters to ever lace up a pair of gloves.
Man, I'll tell you what, Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard was a brutal puncher, light heavyweight in the 1940s, the only man to ever knockout the granite-chinned Joey Maxim.
PHILLY BOXING HISTORY
THE HATCHETMAN
By: Aram "Rocky" Alkazoff
The "Hatchetman."
Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard.
Something about the name gives you a cold feeling.
Roll it around your mouth and you get the notion you're saying the name of a old time outlaw or gunfighter. That's some nickname, "Hatchetman". How many guys in boxing get a nickname like that? I was starting to think I might have what it took to be a pro fighter when I first heard the name. I was only a teenager, but guys in the neighborhood told me I had a big punch in both hands. That thought got into my young head, and I started to read anything on boxing I could get my hands on. No Gene Tunneys, Billy Conns, Willie Peps, or Tippy Larkins for me. I only wanted to read about the guys who could crack. I related to Dempsey, Louis, Marciano, Sonny Liston. I wanted to be one of them.
I remember how impressed I was by Rocky Marciano, how he had destroyed so many legendary names, but the job he did on Archie Moore amazed me the most. I couldn't believe anybody hit hard enough to bust up the great Moore the way Rocky did.
So what happens? I read a Ring Magazine article about The "Old Mongoose" in which he was asked who was the hardest hitter he ever faced. I'm expecting him to rave about Rocky and what does he say? It went something like this: "Hatchetman" Sheppard. This guy was something else! When the Hatchetman hit you it was like a electric shock struck you! Hatchetman knocked me down so hard I bounced off the canvas. I decisioned him twice mainly by making him miss."
Who the hell was Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard? Could he really hit harder than the tremendous fighters Moore was in with? Guys like Marciano, Charles, Patterson, Ali, and Harold Johnson? There was a picture of the Hatchetman in the article and I took a close look at it. Curtis was a dark-skinned black guy with a cold, destroying look in his eyes. Standing with his shoulders hunched in fighting position. he looked the every image of Disaster. Big bones, gigantic fists, and smooth muscles. I imagined getting hit with his straight right. What was it Moore said?
"This guy once hit a guy so hard he broke his collarbone."
Looking at him, that was easy to believe.
The second time I read something about Hatchetman was in a book called "The Great Fights". It mentioned that Joey Maxim, whom I recalled as an iron jawed, defensive boxer, suffered only one KO in his entire career--a one round destruction by Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, a "tremendous puncher". That lesson was never forgotten by Maxim, who thereafter became a safety-first boxer and out boxed Sheppard a month later. But Sheppard had managed to knock Maxim out, whereas Walcott, Moore, Charles, Robinson, and Patterson couldn't. I wondered why I had never heard about him; I figured he must be one of those black fighters of the thirties and forties who couldn't catch a break. A Charley Burley-Lloyd Marshall type. To be black fighter with a murderous punch in that era was to be a victim of...well, let's call it "bad timing."
The years passed, and I didn't become a champion in the ring. I found a new profession, new friends, and a whole different way of life. But I kept up my interest as a fan, and I never forgot the name Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard or what Archie Moore said about him. One day in early 1988 I was indicted by the United States Government for various "organized criminal" offenses. The charges were laid, I believe, so as to pressure me into informing on people about whom the feds thought I had meaningful information. I was found guilty and given a life sentence.
After almost a year in Detroit Wayne County Jail, suffering through not only a lengthy trial, but a long detainment in solitary confinement for assault on a County sheriff I felt had disrespected me, I was chained up and transported to Chicago. In Federal custody I was driven to M.C.C. Chicago, a skyscraper prison in the middle of downtown, not far from where I had been raised. It was a holding building for people in Federal trial, court, informants, and those in transit to the Bureau of Prisons correctional system.
As I climbed out of the bus in the M.C.C. garage, some fresh air got into my lungs for a second. The first fresh air I had taken in for a year. You can imagine the shape I was in, what with the confinement, lack of exercise, terrible food, and depression. I was a mess, a shadow of the man I used to be. I was forty years old and facing the reality of spending the rest of my life in prison, all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When I reached the thirteenth floor and a bunk, I was very tired. I spotted a few people I knew from the streets, but I didn't even want to talk. I was ashamed of what I looked like. I went into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror for the first time in a year. I didn't like what I saw. My face was drawn, my eyes worn, my hair long and unruly, with twice as much gray as before. My rock hard 190 pounds was no more. I had a little stomach for the first time, and my muscles felt like they had no power. I put my head down in misery and hurt. Then I heard a man's voice speaking words I'll never forget. "C'mon Rocky. Pick up your head and act like the man I heard you were," he said. "I heard you was a good fighter. Well, now you're in the first round of a tough fight. C'mon, son. You've got a fight in front of you and it's time to start fighting back." I looked up and saw a tall, very dark-skinned black man who had the kindest eyes I had ever seen. His eyebrows were grayed and I could see more gray in his beard, but that didn't tell the whole story. Dressed in an orange prison jump suit, his forearms and biceps were solid, sinewy. He had a tucked-in waist and broad powerful shoulders, along with the absolute biggest fists I have ever seen. He was shaved bald, wore spectacles, and was carrying a big black Bible. He was so impressive in his health and vitality for a man his age, I might have been worried had he not been so gentle in manner.
"I heard you was a pretty good fighter when you was younger," he said.
"I tried it some, but I didn't go all the way like maybe I should have," I answered, figuring he had talked to someone who knew me.
"That's why I knew I could talk to you," he said. "You ever heard of
Curtis "the Hatchetman" Sheppard? That's me."
The minute he said the name, I remembered the article and the picture. It was him! He was older, but it was him. Same head, same expression, same body and fists. The first thought I had was, "No wonder Moore said he hit so hard." One look at him and you knew he was built to punch. Imagine him saying he heard I was a pretty good fighter! Hatchetman Sheppard talking to me like I was good enough to relate to a fighter like him. I was ashamed to let him see me in this shape.
"Course I heard of you, Curtis," I said with respect. "You was some fighter. Archie Moore said you was the hardest hitter he ever boxed."
"Joe Maxim said it too," he laughed. "Two champs. But these young kids out there don't know. I heard you got "life", Rock. Is that true?"
"Yeah I did, Curtis," I answered, looking down. "I let them get to me. I broke down in the "Hole", man. I got down on myself and let myself go soft. I'm ashamed to let a great fighter like you see me like this. How about you, Curtis? What have they got...."
"Rocky, I have done over thirty-two years in prison for two crimes that I had no choice about," he said, cutting me off. "I've been on "death row" twice. I've been so far in hurt and hell, that I never thought I'd live again like a human being. I lost control just like you did. But with God I came back. I stayed locked up, but I became a proud man again. I got my pride back. That's what I want for you, Rocky. I want you to show me and God that you're a champion. I want you to pick yourself off the canvas and start fighting back like the great fighter I know you are."
Here was a guy who fought Moore, Walcott, Maxim, Bettina, and Bivins, and who had done thirty years plus, telling me to pick up my head and act like the fighter I was. He was telling me to come back to life after the death blow of my sentence! Who was I that he should talk to me like that? He didn't even know me.
I glanced up at him and was greeted by a smile, and a huge hand on my shoulder.
"I'm praying for you son," he said. "You clean up and come on out. We can talk about the old fighters. These young boys out here don't know anything. I need a buddy to take my side."
That was the beginning of my rebirth and my friendship with Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, who went from being one of boxing's most feared fighters, to possibly the most feared man in the Illinois Penitentiary System, to a gentle giant carrying a Bible.
The next day I said a prayer, got a haircut, ate three meals, and started doing pushups and sit-ups with a seventy-four year old man. That was the beginning of my rebirth and the long road back.
As luck would have it, me and the Hatchetman were to both go to Oxford Federal Prison in Wisconsin. We sat next to each other on the bus, and I have to tell you I enjoyed the ride just to see some trees! Hatchetman was like a big happy kid on the ride, and was uncuffed to be a "trustee". That meant he brought water and served lunch, as well as doing cleanup. Watching this older man's energy and spirit was inspiring. My determination to do more than just survive grew as I watched him.
"You get a good rest Rocky," he said. "When we get to Oxford, heavy training starts. You start with your comeback."
He meant it.
When we arrived at Oxford, which was a double-fenced, razor- wired hell in the middle of forests, Hatchetman was enthused.
"This is beautiful," he said happily. "Good air. Perfect for a training camp."
He made me forget it was prison for a second.
Gradually I found out more about the Hatchetman. It was a hell of story.
While Hatchetman was fighting in the late forties, he admitted that due to training he neglected his wife. He made good money as a fighter, and was renowned in the black community. He lived the high life of nightclubs, entertainers, athletes, and the famous. Eventually due to his neglect his wife took a Chicago policeman for a lover.
"She always had a thing for those 'high yaller' fellows," he said, shaking his head.
Hatchetman found them together, a fight ensued, and Hatchetman shot the officer to death. His wife, mother of his only child, a son, ran almost naked to a police station. Her testimony put Hatchetman away for twenty long hard years. A year later, his wife's corpse was found in Lake Michigan.
All kinds of rumors floated around the city and the prisons about her death. It was said, that Hatchetman was a "mob" fighter and she had been killed in retaliation. Another rumor that--against all logic--persisted until the present day was that Hatchetman killed her and chopped off her head.
"Rock I'm telling you, this is the way it happened," said ----------, a known Chicago Black Gangster Disciple gang leader.
"Hatchetman came home and found her and the cop together. He stabbed the cop, killed his wife and chopped off her head. Then he went to a bar, ordered a drink, put his wife's head on the bar and said, "Give her a drink too."
I was told that story by at least twenty seasoned convicts from Chicago, who had heard of him or known him from Illinois prisons.
"That story was just a rumor, Rocky," Hatchetman said. "I couldn't have killed my wife even if I'd had the opportunity. I was in love with her. She was my son's mamma. When I heard she died, no one grieved as much as me. But it wasn't any of my doing. These people in prison heard the name 'Hatchetman', and shoot, they didn't know nothing about boxing. They figured I got the name for chopping up people. They didn't know it was because of my punching. I heard the stories but I was so crazy back then, I didn't even care. But no, son, I never killed my wife."
Hatchetman was bitter about the sentence and he did his twenty years with hate. He formed a gang in the prison system known as the "Black Gangsters", and established himself as Gangster number one. He became the most feared man in the prison system, not only because of his position as gang leader, but because of the ruthless way he used his fists on anyone who opposed him.
"I was taken over by the devil," he'd say with disgust.
"Taken over by the devil" meant just that. Hatchetman became involved the terrible activities that prison hatred breeds. His reputation as a fearsome inmate grew. Many a young boy in Cook County jail facing prison was greeted by seasoned cons with the warning, "Man, they gonna send you to Stateville and old' Hatchetman will be waiting for you. He'll take a pretty young guy like you and knock you out and use you like a girl. He's so big and mean, there ain't gonna be a goddamn thing you can do about it!"
Hatchetman's reputation came to reach mythic proportions. People forgot he had actually been a quality boxer who'd knocked down champions. Eventually he joined the Black Muslims and changed his name to Curtis X. He became a leader in promoting racial hatred and violence--this only added to his rep.
I heard dozens of stories concerning Hatchetman's activities during this period, one detailing how he fought the entire "goon squad", a group made up of tough convicts, used by the guards to break down incorrigible inmates. Goon squad members were hated and looked down upon as snitches, and were housed away from the other prisoners. They received early releases and benefits for this kind of help, and they caused so many revenge murders that the use of such groups is no longer permitted. The squad was cut loose upon Hatchetman one day to discipline him, and outnumbered 20 to 1, he fought them to a standstill. Finally he was tied down, drugged and given electronic shock treatments to keep him quiet.
"That was terrible son," Hatchetman said. "Just terrible.
Terrible days and bad memories. No way for men to treat each other."
Hatchetman did his time, and after twenty years was released into the streets. He took his prison reputation with him and became involved in many brutal activities. Disaster finally caught up to him one night when he beat a man over a gambling dispute. The man returned and shot Hatchetman in the head. Bleeding badly, Hatchetman nevertheless overpowered the man. He took away the gun and killed him. Hatchetman barely survived. After the incident he was charged and found guilty of second degree murder, receiving another twenty year sentence. Even today the bullet hole is visible in his skull and he has to take constant medication to prevent seizures.
This brush with death brought Hatchetman to the brink of insanity. He admits to almost losing his grip, but like so many men of religious conviction he had a profound mystical experience that led him to devote his life to Jesus Christ. During this second prison experience, which started when the Hatchetman was in his fifties, he was a different man.
Hatchetman was sent to Pontiac Penitentiary in Illinois, and this time he was armed with his newfound faith. He became the head of boxing program, which produced the finest teams in the history of the Illinois prison system. His training program produced quite a few professionals, including "Jumbo" Cummings who fought Joe Frazier to a draw in Joe's last fight. But more significantly, Hatchetman coached hundreds of young men in the basics of boxing and training, and kept them away from the hellish temptations of prison life. Many, many men who were released from prison and became useful citizens will attest to this.
Hatchetman came to be a preacher of moral behavior and tolerance, a voice of reason in an inferno of racial hatred. Many inmates were saved a terrible beating because of Hatchetman's intervention in the name of peace. It was a much different prison "bit" for Hatchetman this time, and things went well for a while. But eventually trouble found him again. Twice.
The first incident occurred after Hatchetman had become the head cook in the kitchen. He had to fight off gang leaders who wanted to steal a disproportionate number of hamburgers on hamburger day for their gang. (Hamburgers and chicken are like gold in prison chow halls.) Hatchetman informed them that they couldn't do that--if they did then other inmates would not get fed. As long as he was head cook each inmate would get his fair amount. He told them they could have the leftovers after everyone had been fed. Of course he was in the right, and one on one, man to man, he was a match for any three of them, even at that age. They backed off. But later he was ambushed by "hit men" with knives who stuck him in the back several times. Once again bloody but unbowed, Hatchetman not only survived but gave chase, forcing the attackers to lock up for protection. They tried him, but nobody got those extra burgers. He still carries the scars from that attack.
The second incident was more tragic. A powerful inmate in his twenties, the enforcer for a black prison gang, was harassing a much smaller inmate for sexual favors. Hatchetman saw what was going on and asked him to please leave the smaller man alone. The enforcer, taking Hatchetman's plea as a disrespect for his position, cursed and threatened him. Before long, he began harassing Hatchetman and announcing that he was gonna kill him. Hatchetman did not start a fight, but took to carrying a homemade "ice pick" for self defense. One day the enforcer got behind Hatchetman and hit him on the head, an almost killing blow with a lead pipe. The blow bashed in Hatchetman's skull, and with blood flowing like water, in a crazed rage, the Hatchetman wrestled down his attacker and killed him with his "ice pick", after saying that he was sending him "to hell, where he belongs." Surviving the crushed skull, which left a depression in his head that is still visible next to his earlier gunshot wound, Hatchetman was found guilty of first degree murder and placed on "death row".
Entering the hell of loneliness and darkness again, this time Hatchetman was sustained by his faith. After about a year, his prayers were answered by a white ex-inmate from Southern Illinois, who had turned over a new leaf upon release and become a expert paralegal--he was also a heavyweight who had been trained by Hatchetman during his prison time. The man recalled Hatchetman's many kindnesses and came to his rescue. After a lengthy appeals process, Hatchetman's conviction was overturned on the grounds of self-defense.
The Hatchetman had almost four years left on his sentence, but because the dead man had been a member of a large prison gang, it was unsafe for him to be in the State of Illinois correctional system. It was decided that for his own protection he would finish out his time in the Federal system, and this is where I got to know him.
When I arrived at Oxford, I was glad to finally get into the fresh air, but even a walk around the track tired me. I was in awful shape. Hatchetman became my trainer., and I found a friend about my age, a ex amateur fighter named Wali Ali, who had been a "Fruit of Islam" bodyguard of Muhammad Ali, who also wanted to get back in shape. We decided to be Hatchetman's boxing stable--we were called the "Over The Hill Gang" by the other inmates.
"Listen," said Hatchetman . "I'm from the old school, and if I'm the trainer we do it my way. I'm like Jack Blackburn or Doc Kearns. I'm the boss. What I say goes. I give the order and you do what I say. I don't want any backtalk. I want discipline and obedience. I'm doing this for you. Not for myself. You'll see the result. But no questions. Just action. First rule--always bring a towel and a cap when I train you...."
Me and Wali started running on the track like "two old Kentucky mules," and were as slow as dripping honey. But one mile, became two, then three, and after a while we were doing five and finishing up with a sprint.
"C'mon, c'mon," cried Hatchetman as the ninety degree heat bore down on us and, tiring, we approached the final sprint. "Think about Rocky Marciano with a split nose! He never quit! Think of old man Archie Moore getting off the canvas! He never quit! Think of great fighters! Joe Louis! Billy Conn! Henry Armstrong!"
How the hell could we quit with him yelling that at us? No way.
Eventually we got to where we would carry a twenty-five pound weight up and down hills for a half hour. He pushed us just as hard in our other exercises--heavy bag, speed bag, jump rope, medicine ball and calisthenics.
Ali and I started off splitting one round on the heavy bag. That was all we could manage, being so out of shape. But soon, with the Hatchetman pushing us, we could do a half-hour apiece with no problem, at top speed. The younger inmates were impressed.
One time Wali was on the heavy bag during a hot day, and was in the eighth round, struggling with the heat,
"I'm gettin" tired," he said, knowing that Hatchetman would disapprove of his talking, yet so exhausted the words just came out.
"You take that tired talk to almighty Allah or whatever you call God," said Hatchetman in a loud voice. "Complaints like that are His business. But I want ten rounds out of you! He can have the rest..."
All the inmates within listening distance turned around in shock. Ali just looked at me, shook his head, and kept punching.
That's the kind of trainer Hatchetman was. No nonsense, and a answer for everything.
Another thing about Hatchetman that commanded respect was that he would hit the bags and run, too. At this time he was about seventy-seven years old and about two hundred and twenty five pounds--he was amazing.
Among inmates there's a saying that "prison preserves you." Which is to say that the rest and natural discipline of prison life keeps you looking like you did when you came in, without much aging. I have to agree with that saying; I have seen many men in prison who look and act at least twenty years younger than their calendar age. But the Hatchetman, along with Sonny Franzeze, a Columbo family capo, who was also seventy-eight, with thirty years of prison under his belt...they were the most amazing physical specimens I ever saw.
Hatchetman's fists were so big, we had no bag gloves for him, so he taped his hands and wore big knitted mittens that he made himself. Then he would hit the heavy and speed bags for eight or ten rounds. Hard crunching punches, that popped with power, widening the eyes of any onlookers. His hands were so heavy, he would throw a sweeping punch in which the inside of his fist would strike the back of the bag and knock it sideways. This was an old tactic he had used to dismantle boxers.
"I'd do that to knock their equilibrium back," he said. It was a killer.
He'd do his exercises and roadwork with the same vigor. He was just an incredible genetic specimen. You couldn't help but love him and respond to his coaching, seeing how great he was at his age, and considering what he had been through.
I got in better and better shape, and after about a year and a half, Hatchetman took me to the prison law library.
"Rocky, now that you walk and look like a fighter again," he said. "I want you in this law library. I want you to research your case and start fighting this thing in the appeals courts. You have a life sentence and I want you to never give up the fight."
He then said a prayer.
"It don't hurt to have God help you, Rock," he said.
He was right.
My prison life became a tornado of training and studying the law.
I could go on and on talking about the good things Hatchetman did behind the walls of prison, but suffice it to say he was the voice of reason, common sense, and survival to many men at a time when they needed a friend the most. He had a knack for picking out inmates who seemed lost and helping them. Most importantly of all he steered people away from gangs and racial hatred.
"Son, I've been a gangster, a boxer, a bodyguard, a Black Muslim, a gang leader, and the most feared man on the block. I've been in the lonely pit of hell, locked in with the devil trying to take my soul. It was Jesus Christ that pulled me out. I've been through everything and only Jesus Christ is left as the answer. That I know. He saved me and He can save you..."
It was hard to not listen to this big black-skinned man with the massive shoulders, huge fists and gentle voice. He commanded your attention for he spoke from experience.
When he'd see black inmates, who were in the majority, talking racial hatred and planning violence against whites and others he'd say, "Don't tell me about slavery being a white and black thing only. If the truth is known, niggers sold niggers into slavery and made money from it. Judge a man for what he is, not his color."
Hatchetman had a curious hobby for such a war-like man. He knitted. The big knit caps and gloves that he knitted were all over the prisons. The big knit caps that Archie Moore used to wear near the end of his life were gifts from the Hatchetman to his old nemesis in the ring.
"I gotta love Archie," he'd smile. "He always used to come to see me and support me in prison. Joey Maxim too. They are two real champs."
My favorite times with Hatchetman were when we'd discuss the old fighters and his fights. There weren't many in prison who knew his era and could talk about it, and he loved that I could. These were some of his comments.
"Walcott was the best," he said. "Jersey hit like a mule and he knew how to draw you in."
"Moore hit the hardest of anybody I fought. Either hand. He could drop a bomb on your head. Every round was tough. I only hit him twice and both times I floored him. I don't know how he got up. I hit him so hard I thought I killed him, but he just got up. Archie was strong."
"Maxim was strong. He had a very strong body. He could hold you in close. That was his thing. That's how he beat me the first time. The second time I nailed him early. After that I had to fight him twenty days later. He ran like a thief and I wore the cuffs. But give him credit. He was as good as any. After that knockout everyone ran from me."
"Melio Bettina was clever, rough, strong. I was tired from Lee Q. Murray. Fought him a month before. But Bettina was tough. Him and Moore would have been a good match."
"I fought Lee Q. Murray six times. He'd be a champ today. He would'a beat Riddick Bowe or Holyfield."
"Jimmy Bivins was all arms. He never tried to punch with me. He knew better. All arms and elbows. Good fighter."
We talked about them all Lloyd Marshall, Tony Musto, Willie Reddish, Nate Bolden.
"You were a sparring partner for Louis weren't you, Hatchetman?" I asked.
"Just for a second," he laughed. "Oh he hit so hard! He'd try to kill you. Nothing was worth that kind of money. He knocked out big Max Baer for damn sake! Knocking out Baer was like chopping a tree! Oh, Louis could hurt you! I got out of his camp quick."
Did he hit harder than Max Baer?
"Louis could hurt you, but Max Baer could kill you!" He laughed.
"After he killed fighters he held back. He became a clown. But his sparring partners told me he could kill you by accident. He could hit that hard. But Louis was the better fighter."
"What match would you have liked to have seen?"
"Tony Zale versus Ray Robinson," he said, with eyes far away in the past. "Zale was so strong and tough, and Ray wouldn't have ran. That would been some fight."
"Who was the best pound for pound?"
"Being from Pittsburgh," he said., "I knew how good Burley was, and Billy Conn. Don't forget Zivic. He was a killer, but they kept the cuffs on him. There was so many. But for some reason I think of Ezzard Charles. Before he killed Baroudi he was beautiful. I was surprised Marciano beat him like he did. I didn't think anyone his size could beat him twice like that. That gives you an idea of how tough Marciano was and how hard he hit. Marciano's secret was his ability to avoid women and night life. He could keep coming and with that chin and power, he couldn't be denied."
"How much did you weigh in your prime?" I asked.
"About 188," he said.
"How come so little?" I said. "You're a big guy. How come so light."
"Back then heavyweights didn't carry no fat like now. They wanted to be quick. Plus no one lifted weights. They slow you up. Louis, Dempsey, Walcott all could have weighed two fifteen or twenty if they wanted. Baer was a giant. But the thing was, no one carried fat weight like today."
"Could the modern fighters have beaten the old timers?"
"No way. Ali couldn't have beaten Louis or Marciano. Even the best of the modern guys like Monzon, Hagler, Foster, and Sugar Ray Leonard. No way could they have dominated in my era. Duran is the best of the moderns and even without the cuffs I don't know if he could have beaten Ike Williams. Kids come up tougher back then. They were hungry."
I noticed how much respect Hatchetman gave to the older Chicago and New York mob guys who were locked up with us. It seemed he couldn't break the habit of thinking they had big power, even in here. These were very old guys from his era; they were fight fans and remembered the Hatchetman. Watching him when was around them gave me a picture of how powerful the mob must have been in the fight game during his time.
We used to sit and talk boxing with the mob guys, and fixed fights and "handcuffs" and so on were routinely discussed. They talked of famous fights and famous fighters, too. Hatchetman never disagreed with them. He'd only smile and nod, giving me the impression it was all the truth.
"Handcuffs were for fighters not to lose too bad, but by a decision, or to let someone go the distance," Hatchetman told me. "A fixed knockout was for bigger money."
"Did you wear the cuffs?" I asked.
"Everyone wore the cuffs if you wanted to make money," he said.
"That's the business, Rock."
"Was Ali and Liston on the level?" I asked.
"C'mon, Rock," he said with a smile. " That one had the cuffs on Sonny tighter than a noose. It's all over now. God's got a better plan now for both of us."
Here's the conclusion of the Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard article.
About four days before Hatchetman was to be turned loose to the world on parole for the first time in twenty years, I witnessed a final moving scene.
One of my friends had sent me a copy of Bert Sugar's Boxing Illustrated Magazine. It had a copy of a story by Herbert Goldman, a boxing historian, called "The Hardest Punchers in Boxing History". As I glanced over the article I couldn't believe what I was reading.
That same day I also got a package from a prince of a man named Sal Rappa, another boxing historian from New York, who used to send us boxing stories, opinions, and pictures, generously giving of his time to lighten the burden of trapped men who loved boxing. Sal has written for Ring Magazine, is a member of the legendary Ring #8 out of New York, and is a beautiful man who I will never forget for caring enough about us as men to respond to our questions. In this instance he sent us upon request the complete boxing record of Curtis "the Hatchetman" Sheppard. The timing of these two pieces of mail seemed to testify that somebody up there was thinking about Hatchetman.
I ran to the prison gym where Hatchetman was surrounded by the young guys he was coaching in boxing. I called him over, and the other guys crowded around. I handed him his complete record and told him it was from Sal. This touched him so deeply that he was silent. Then I gave him the Goldman article to read. It had a list of the men he considered the fifty hardest hitters of all time. Oh there were the guys you expected. Wilde, Louis, Baer, Dempsey, Marciano, Liston, Saddler, and other champions. But number fifteen....Number fifteen was "Curtis 'Hatchetman' Sheppard". Hatchetman closed the book after seeing his name, and a tear came down the face of this big, dark man who had known so much pain.
When the day came for Hatchetman to leave, he was dressed in his freshly ironed prison khakis and as excited as a little kid. He was seventy-eight, but in shape like a person thirty years younger. With everybody wishing him good luck, I just stood there happy for him. Imagine, he was pushing eighty, and going to the world for the first time in twenty years, yet he was excited like a kid. He kept talking about a little "Fish Fry" place he was going to open up.
"What about money, Hatchetman?" someone asked.
"I don't worry bout money ," he said with a confident look. "I made money, money didn't make me. I'll be okay."
Finally he came to me and hugged me and kissed me.
"I found the love of a father for a son in you, Rock," he said.
"If you didn't become a champion in the ring, still you can be in shape like one. I expect you to keep in shape, keep training, and stay in that law library and fight your case. My prayers are that you will overturn your conviction and walk out in the health of a much younger man. You will then beat them like I did. I'll pray for you, and God is with you."
He had tears in his eyes and so did I.
He left and it felt like half the prison left with him, so empty did it seem. I was blessed to have known him. I kept my word to him and stayed in shape and in the law library fighting my case. Some few years later I overturned my conviction and walked out of Federal prison a free man in strong physical condition, through my own efforts in the law library and prison gym, and the prayers of a old heavyweight fighter.
Every once in a while I'll see Curtis' name mentioned with the black "Murderers Row" of fighters of that era that never got a chance at the title: Burley, Lytell, Marshall, Bivins, Williams, and others. But I know that the Hatchetman was a champ in the real life, and after all that's where it counts.
Reading that article about Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard brilliantly written by Aram Alkhazoff, just wow, what a story. Here's an article by Alkhazoff that goes more into Sheppard's fighting career and record.
The "Hatchetman" -
Meet Curtis Shephard
With Aram Alkhazoff
"Sheppard was from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Sheppard was a popular fighter during the 1930s and 1940s. His nickname was "The Hatchetman." As was common during his era, no records of his birthdate, or his death date (if he is dead), are kept.
Sheppard never received a world title shot. He was what in boxing is described as a "journeyman." However, his career had many ups and downs, which made him an interesting boxer for fans to watch. The February 2005 issue of Ring magazine, described him as a "gatekeeper," a fighter who stood in the way of other boxers seeking a title shot.
Sheppard began his career as a professional boxer on September 24, 1938, knocking out Larry White in the first round at Madison Square Garden. His first defeat was on November 1 of that year, against Danny Peal, by decision. Sheppard would win four fights in a row, including one against Herbie Katz, who had an immediate rematch, with Sheppard's winning streak stopped at four, when Katz beat him by decision.
In his next fight, November 18, 1939, Sheppard met the future world Heavyweight champion Jersey Joe Walcott. Sheppard lost that fight by an eight-round decision.
After another win and a loss, he met Tony Musto, another fighter of the era who is remembered for fighting many name boxers. Musto beat Sheppard by a ten-round decision, on July 1, 1940.
Sheppard won three and had one no contest in his next four bouts, including a win over Lee Q. Murray. His no-contest bout was against Elza Thompson, on April 17 of 1941, in Pittsburgh. But then he lost again, by decision to Willie Reddish, eleven days after his fight with Thompson.
In June of that year, he beat Q. Murray; then, on August 2, he lost by decision to future Hall of Famer Jimmy Bivins. Sheppard won five of his next seven fights, until on July 27, 1942, he lost to future world Light Heavyweight champion Joey Maxim, by a ten-round decision. He won two of his next four fights. The two fights he did not win during that span included another no-contest, this time against Hubert Hood, in six rounds.
Maxim was the world's #1 challenger in the Light Heavyweight division at the time, and he only needed one more win to earn a world title shot. Because of this, Maxim's management, thinking that Sheppard would be an easy opponent,
scheduled a match between Sheppard and Maxim.
Sheppard temporarily spoiled Maxim's plans, knocking him out in round one of their rematch, on March 10. This result, which would be the only knockout loss in Maxim's career, was a surprise to Ring Magazine writers and many boxing fans. Needing to restore his image in order to fight for the world Light Heavyweight title, Maxim signed for an immediate rematch with Sheppard, which would be the third fight between the two boxers. Maxim prevailed this time around, by a ten-round decision.
While Maxim went on and became world champion, Sheppard continued to fight anyone, anytime. Only twenty-six days later, he went into the ring with a fighter who was 12-0 before their fight: Sheppard defeated Clint Conway by a ten-round decision on April 26.
Sheppard won only two of his next five fights, before embarking on a seven-fight win streak. The first three wins were first-round knockouts, including one over Conway, on December 12, 1943. On January 24, 1944, he had one of his best performances when he beat future challenger for the world heavyweight championship Gus Dorazio by a ten-round unanimous decision.
Sheppard's win streak was stopped by Buddy Walker, who defeated Sheppard on February 6, by a ten-round decision.
Sheppard's next fourteen fights were almost all against the elite of the Light Heavyweight division: He beat Buddy Walker by a knockout in eight rounds in a rematch. Then he beat Tony Shucco by knockout in five, before losing to Q. Murray and to future world champion Melio Bettina, both by ten-round decisions. Then he beat Alf Brown, Dan Merritt, and Buddy Walker, all except Walker by decision. Walker was knocked out in nine rounds. Then Sheppard was knocked out in seven rounds by Perk Daniels on April 9, 1945. This was followed by a points loss at the hands of Jimmy Bivins. Sheppard then had consecutive wins over Nate Bolden, Johnny Allen, and Perkins in a rematch, before facing Jersey Joe Walcott again, and Archie Moore. He dropped decisions to Walcott and Moore, but Moore would later claim that, of all of his opponents, which included Bob Satterfield, Ezzard Charles, Rocky Marciano, Floyd Patterson, and Muhammad Ali, it was Sheppard who hit him the hardest.
Sheppard would fight twenty three more times, winning fourteen and losing nine. He lost another fight to Moore, but "the king of knockouts" could never knock Sheppard out, as he had to settle for a second decision victory over Sheppard. Sheppard also lost to Bivins, Q. Murray and to Rusty Payne, each of them twice by decision, during that last 23-fight stretch. His second fight with Payne, on January 19, 1949, was his last professional boxing fight.
Sheppard compiled a record of 49 wins and 33 losses, with 2 no-contests, and 32 knockouts."
It's a shame that there aren't more photos of Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, only a small handful exist, and it's a even bigger shame that there is zero fight film available for viewing, the guy could seriously crack and I would love to watch his power. I'll tell you what, I'd pay good money to see his knockout of Joey Maxim, Maxim was made of Iron and Sheppard iced him in one round. Tha Sportz Block on Facebook made some excellent points here:
Consider these facts of the career of former world champion Joey Maxim:
Bob Satterfield couldn't knock out Maxim
Lloyd Marshall couldn't knock out Maxim
Jersey Joe Walcott couldn't KO Maxim in 30 rounds
Jimmy Bivins couldn't KO Maxim in 40 rounds
Archie Moore (the all-time KO King) couldn't KO Maxim in 45 rounds
Ezzard Charles couldn't KO Maxim in 62 rounds
CURTIS "Hatchetman" SHEPPARD knocked out Maxim in a single round.
Chilling when you think about it, no?
Being the great champ he was, Maxim came back later and out-boxed Sheppard for the win. But Sheppard's achievement in stopping the rock-chinned Clevelander is simply stunning in light of all the great fighters who could do nothing with him along those lines.
Archie Moore, who fought every big banger of his time from Bob Satterfield to Rocky Marciano, called the punch of Sheppard the hardest sock he ever felt. Maxim did as well. Jersey Joe Walcott claimed that Curtis hit him even harder than Joe Louis, which at the time was the ultimate compliment.
Stills from the film of Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard (in dark trunks) winning the 1938 Inter-City Golden Gloves against Dan Merritt on March 28, 1938 at Madison Square Garden.
Unquestionably, this is my favorite image of Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard and it's not necessary to explain why. The Hill District "Hatchetman", shown here with manager Eddie Kapphan (who also managed Harry BoBo), was way ahead of his time in terms of self-promotion, often showing up to weigh-ins with this axe draped over his shoulder.
Since we're on the subject of murderous punchers today, I'd certainly say this guy qualifies. Julian "The Hawk" Jackson. One of the hardest one-shot punchers in history, when Jackson hit an opponent flush, they weren't just knocked out, they were sent into another dimension.
Speaking of the ocean, it's absolutely fascinating what kind of creatures live in the abyss, the the deepest depths of the ocean, where sunlight cannot reach and it's literally pitch dark. These creatures create there own bioluminescent light and it's absolutely stunningly beautiful. Let's have a look, shall we?
Credit: New York Times
In 1932, William Beebe wedged his lanky body into a cramped submersible and became the first scientist to descend into the sea’s inky darkness. A tiny window let him gaze out. Later, he described an unfamiliar world of dancing lights, pale glows and beguiling shimmers.
“It seemed to explode,” he said of one luminous creature. Nothing, he added in his book, “Half Mile Down,” had prepared him for the spectacular displays. The colors included pale greens, blues, reds and especially blue-greens, which by nature can travel far in seawater.
Over the decades, biologists learned that the creatures of the deep sea use light much as animals on land use sound — to lure, intimidate, stun, mislead and find mates.
The living lights emanated from tiny fish with needlelike fangs, and gelatinous brutes with thousands of feeding tentacles. The sheer variety suggested that bioluminescence was fairly common, but no scientist came up with a measurement of the phenomenon.
Now, 85 years after Dr. Beebe’s pioneering dive, scientists have succeeded in gauging the actual extent of bioluminescence in the deep ocean.
During 240 research dives in the Pacific, they recorded every occurrence and kind of glowing sea creature — more than 500 types living down as deep as two miles. Then, the researchers merged the results into a comprehensive survey.
The result? Most of the creatures — a stunning 76 percent — made their own light, vastly outnumbering the ranks of the unlit, such as dolphins.
Comments
"I was always good with my hands, and guys were always testing me, like the fastest gun in the West. There was this guy known as Farmer, a real mean dude. He was the head of the Outlaws, and he was looking for me. l was walking along with my mother when he came up. l told my mother, 'Stand over here,' and just made a mess of him. There was maybe a thousand people watching us, and he got up and told me, 'You're good.' He's in jail now. He shot up a disco about a year ago.
One time, we're walking along and I pull this fire alarm, and my mother took off her shoe and hit me in the head with it. I had amnesia for a minute and that shoeprint on my head for a week. To this day, if I see a fire alarm, l cross the street. My mother kept me straight. My father was real strict, but l was a hard-headed guy and never listened to nobody. I couldn't listen to him for the simple reason it's survival of the fittest out there. I grew up fast."
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was born Eddie Gregory but changed his name when he converted to Islam, great fighter, started out at middle and moved up to light heavy and mixed it up with some real carnivores, the most stacked era in the divisions history, beat Marvin "Pops" Johnson for the WBA light heavyweight title in 1980.
The Sweet Science
Closer Look: Eddie Mustafa Muhammad
July 8th, 2008
By: Robert Mladinich
It is hard to imagine anyone more at peace with himself than former WBA light heavyweight champion Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Fighting professionally from 1972 to 1990, he amassed a record of 50-8-1 (39 KOS) against the likes of such champions as Victor Galindez, Matthew Saad Muhammad, Marvin Johnson, Michael Spinks, Ricky Parkey and Slobodan Kacar.
Although he won his title by scoring a devastating 11th round knockout over Johnson, and lost it four fights later by controversial decision to Spinks, the most satisfying victory of his career was his eighth round knockout of unheralded Mario Rosa at Madison Square Garden’s Felt Forum in November 1974.
Rosa, who was 15-4 going into the bout, dropped Mustafa Muhammad, who was still fighting under his birth name of Eddie Gregory, in both the sixth and seventh rounds.
“Rosa was on a three bout winning streak, and I only had 11 fights at the time,” said the now 56-year-old Muhammad over the July 4th weekend at the Top Rank Gym in Las Vegas where he currently trains fighters.
“I was relatively inexperienced and they (Muhammad’s management) were starting to push me,” he continued. “Rosa was beating everyone up. It was a make or break fight for me. He knocked me down twice, but I came back and knocked him out.”
Because Muhammad was such a gifted amateur, he says he was forced to learn on the job. The son of a New York City housing policeman, he began his amateur career at the Howard Houses gym in Brownsville, Brooklyn, under the guidance of the hard-nosed Al Fischetti.
Fischetti, who became like a father figure to Muhammad, churned out top amateurs in much the same fashion that Emanuel Steward did at Detroit’s fabled Kronk Gym in the late 1970s.
Besides Muhammad, whose vaunted right hand made him the star of the stable, there was Forest Ward, who became a Pan American Games champion, Alvin Weeks and Charley Hunter.
“It was a great gym, and Al was a great trainer,” said Muhammad. “I loved the competition and I loved the camaraderie.”
Every Saturday Muhammad and his teammates would meet for a run through their beleaguered neighborhood. Afterwards they would all head over to a local donut shop where they’d gorge themselves while breaking each other’s chops.
Considering that they were living in a neighborhood that decades earlier had spawned Murder Incorporated and was now awash with drugs and crime, Muhammad says that boxing served him well. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for some of his teammates.
One of them, a sensational welterweight named Shoebe Streets developed a severe drug habit that resulted in him robbing numerous banks while wearing a mink coat. Week after week the newspapers and television news stations show blurry photos of the bandit in action.
Muhammad, Fischetti and others at the gym knew who the perpetrator was because Streets would often come to the gym dressed in the same coat that he wore just hours earlier during his latest robbery. On some occasions he would distribute crisp new bills to his friends at the gym.
“He would jump over the teller with his mink coat on,” said Muhammad. “We all knew it was him. I’m surprised it took the cops so long to catch him. Al Fischetti told him he couldn’t come to the gym anymore, but we never thought of turning him in. My father was a policeman, but I came from the hood and in the hood the last thing you do is snitch. Back then, that never even crossed your mind.”
From Muhammad’s first day in the gym, he was told that he could become a world champion. While he enjoyed all of the attention that his tremendous right hand brought him, he realizes now that he never had the chance to fully develop. His right hand was so powerful, he would often toy with sparring partners until Fischetti yelled “NOW,” which was the signal for Muhammad to drop the hammer.
“That was usually the end of sparring for the day,” said Muhammad. “It sounds great, but the fact is I never really had a chance to grow. Everyone was always telling me I was gonna be this and I was gonna be that.”
For a time, Muhammad considered following his father into a law enforcement career. He was a police trainee with Bo Dietl, who later became a decorated detective and the subject of the book and film “One Tough Cop.” Today Dietl runs one of the biggest private investigation agencies in the world, and is a talking head on the MSNBC news channel.
“I realized police work was not for me,” said Muhammad. “Once I started boxing, that was all that turned me on. That’s all I wanted to do with my life.”
Muhammad was always too emotionally grounded to become full of himself, but he was disappointed when he lost to Jesse Valdez in the 1972 Olympic Trials.
“I knocked him down, but he was in the Air Force and I think they wanted a military guy representing the United States instead of a kid from Brownsville,” said Muhammad.
Muhammad declined the offer to go to Munich as an Olympic alternative and turned pro in September 1972. Although such esteemed boxing people as Gil Clancy, Freddie Brown and Ray Arcel all said he was a surefire champion, Muhammad insists that their praise never went to his head.
“I’m not being braggadocious, but that just made me train harder,” said Muhammad. “I was determined to make their words come true. Once I knew that I could make money with these hands, I didn’t take anything for granted.”
Fighting throughout the New York metropolitan area, as well as once in France where he drew with local favorite Nessim Max Cohen, he had amassed a 10-0-1 (6 KOS) when he squared off against Rosa.
Afterwards he took an arduous road to prominence, fighting four straight times in Philadelphia against tough opponents. In the last of those encounters, he lost a split decision to local icon Bennie Briscoe.
“Me and Marvin Hagler came up the hard way,” said Muhammad. “We both went through Philadelphia to prove ourselves. Not a lot of fighters were willing to do that.”
In March 1977, Muhammad returned to the City of Brotherly Love to battle Matthew Saad Muhammad. This time he left with a split decision victory. To this day, he says Saad Muhammad, who is now in the Hall of Fame, is the hardest puncher he has ever faced.
Two fights later, in November 1977, Muhammad traveled to Italy where lost a decision to WBA light heavyweight champion Victor Galindez. He rebounded with 13 victories, as well as a loss to James Scott inside the walls of Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, where Scott was serving a long sentence for murder.
When he signed to fight Marvin Johnson, who then held the WBA title, in March 1980, Muhammad’s co-trainer, Slim Robinson, devised the perfect game plan.
“I had a great team,” said Muhammad. “Al Fischetti was an in-your-face guy, which I needed when I was young. Chickie Ferrara was always the quiet, reassuring voice in the corner and Slim could choreograph a fight perfectly.”
Against the southpaw Johnson, Robinson told Muhammad to step to the side every time the champion threw a right jab and use his left hand to go to the body and head.
“The plan was to draw him into my right hand,” said Muhammad, who dropped Johnson in a heap after landing a devastating right hand to the body to take Johnson’s title.
Muhammad did not see Johnson again for 25 years, but when they were reunited in 2005 Johnson told him that he was “really hurt, physically,” from that debilitating punch.
After defending his title against Rudy Koopmans and losing a split decision to Renaldo Snipes in an ill-advised non-title heavyweight bout, Muhammad was matched with Michael Spinks in July 1981. Although he was dropped by Spinks and lost a unanimous decision, Muhammad still believes that he did enough to win.
By this time Muhammad had become good friends with football legend Jim Brown. Muhammad said that Brown, as well as his parents, Fischetti and Muhammad Ali, all had a profound effect on his development as a human being. He cites Brown’s “strength of character” as his greatest asset.
When Muhammad was fighting Lotte Mwale in Las Vegas in October 1981, Brown told him he wanted to attend. Muhammad was in prime shape, so he told Brown to get there early. When he finally saw Brown at the arena, Muhammad was munching on a hot dog. Brown was aghast because he did not know that Muhammad had already knocked Mwale out in the fourth round.
“I told him to get there early,” laughed Muhammad. “I was feeling great that night. I think I would have knocked out anyone.”
Muhammad would have one more shot at a title in December 1985, but he lost a split decision to Kacar in Italy. Three years and three fights later, he retired for good after being stopped in three rounds by journeyman Arthel Lawhorne at a hotel in Newark, New Jersey.
“When I started boxing, I always said the day I get stopped is the day I would quit,” said Muhammad. “I stuck to my word.”
The reality is that the loss to Lawthorne could be most attributed to the fact that Muhammad had recently lost his brother, who had worked his corner on numerous occasions, to AIDS. Although the brother had been a drug user, he and Muhammad were tight.
“I looked in my corner and my brother wasn’t there,” said Muhammad. “I got hit, went down, got up, said I was alright, and (referee) Larry Hazzard stopped the fight. He did the right thing. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. It was a relief.”
Muhammad is the first to admit that he didn’t stick around long enough to have an unhappy ending to his career. The game has been very good to him. Besides winning a world title and earning good money, he was cast as Billy Fox in the classic film “Raging Bull,” which starred Robert DeNiro as Jake LaMotta.
“Making the movie was a lot of hard work,” said Muhammad. “We would do take after take and the rehearsal was just as hard as the action.”
Muhammad has the utmost respect for DeNiro, who he says, “made you feel like you knew him your whole life.”
Muhammad and former welterweight Johnny Turner, who also had a role in the film as boxer Laurent Dauthille, had a lot of fun one evening at the expense of Frank and Eva Shain, two New York fight fixtures who also had roles in the movie.
With Muhammad in tow, Turner donned a frightening mask and crept up to the Shains’ hotel room door in the middle of the night. When Frank Shain answered the door, Turner, who had been bent down, jumped up and let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Frank almost had a heart attack,” laughed Muhammad. “Thank God he didn’t, but it was a close call.”
These days Muhammad is busy training fighters, including undefeated WBC light heavyweight champion Chad Dawson, former heavyweight title challenger Michael Grant, cruiserweight Aaron Williams, and welterweight sensation Said El-Harrak, 1-0, a Moroccan who Muhammad said has all the makings of a champion.
He hopes to leave as indelible impression on them as his trainers, as well as others who drifted in and out of his life like Archie Moore and Charley Burley, did for him.
After just a week with Dawson, Muhammad was told by the current champion that he had boosted his confidence to levels that he could never have imagined. Hearing that was music to Muhammad’s ears.
“This is what I do, what I love more than anything,” said Muhammad. “If I can help people reach their goals, I’m very happy. That is what I live for. If you come to me and want to work, I’ll be happy to work ten times harder to help you attain your goals.”
He also lives for his beloved wife and nine children, all of whom are self-sufficient with rewarding careers of his own. He has a good relationship with each and every one of them.
Being a devout Muslim has caused Muhammad to closely monitor the direction in which he believes the United States is heading. A devout watcher of MSNBC, he refuses to malign President Bush but politely says that, “the president is not always right.”
He says the American invasion of Iraq was a terrible mistake, and is uncomfortable with the criticism leveled at presidential candidate Barack Obama because of his Muslim lineage.
“If Obama is Muslim, so what?” said Muhammad. “Is it bad to be a Muslim? I’m a Muslim and I hate what the terrorists did on 9/11. Every time I’m in New York, I go to Ground Zero and say a prayer. I’m not a political person, but I know right from wrong. Religious extremists of all kinds give their religion a bad name.”
Although Muhammad watches Ultimate Fighting, he is very concerned that a participant is going to be seriously maimed or killed in the near future.
“As a fan of contact sports, I like it,” said Muhammad. “But sometimes these guys are on the ground, out cold, and they’re still getting hit. Society likes blood, but maybe they should have some more safeguards like headgear.”
Another safeguard Muhammad is committed to is the unionization of boxing. Too many boxers leave too much of themselves in the ring. In the end, they often have little or nothing to show for it.
He is currently the president of the Joint Association of Boxers (JAB), a boxing union under the auspices of the Teamsters union that is trying to establish pension plans for fighters that are similar to those available to ballplayers. He has the full support of Teamsters president Jimmy Hoffa Jr., whom he considers a dear friend.
“This is a long time coming, but something that boxers deserve,” said Muhammad, “There’s been some resistance, but I’m determined to see this through. With the backing of the Teamsters, we’ll send you to school, get you a job, allow you to keep your dignity.”
Whether or not Muhammad is ever elected into the Hall of Fame is subject to conjecture. As far as he’s concerned though, he has already got more out of boxing than he ever put in.
“Brooklyn and boxing made me who I am,” he said. “I could have went this way, and I could have went that way. Boxing made me go the right way. One of the things that attracted me was there is no racism in boxing. It doesn’t matter what country you are from or what color your skin is. In the gym and in the ring, everyone is equal.
“What I am most proud of is that I made my family proud,” he continued. “My success in the ring was for them, not for me. Where I came from, Brownsville, the odds were stacked against you. If I had just fought one round as a pro, and it made my parents proud, that would have been enough.”
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad (then Eddie Gregory) defeated Matthew Saad Muhammad (then Matthew Franklin) by a 10-round split decision on March 11, 1977, in Philadelphia. Although Saad Muhammad scored a first-round knockdown, Mustafa Muhammad rallied to win the decision in a heavily debated fight. Matthew Saad Muhammad was just coming into his own at this point in his career and Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was a bit more experienced. It would have been awesome watching these two go at it with both fighters in their absolute prime. Saad Muhammad had legendary recuperative powers and was a killer in the later rounds of a fight, and Mustafa Muhammad was one of the best ever at pacing himself during a fight and would still be fresh in the later rounds. Both fighters were made of iron and carried brutal power. This is one fight I would pay good money to see. Nice shot here showing Eddie Mustafa Muhammad catching Matthew Saad Muhammad with a vicious right hand.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, then known as Eddie Gregory, became a world champion when he won the WBA light heavyweight title with an 11th round TKO of Marvin "Pops" Johnson at the Stokley Athletics Center in Knoxville, Tennessee March 31st, 1980.
Johnson was a tough and hard-hitting light heavyweight with experience, but he was unlucky early in the fight: in round 3, Muhammad stepped on his foot and caught Johnson with a punch, sending him down and keeping him hurt for much of the round. Then in the 5th round, Johnson began bleeding profusely from his nose.
Muhammad rocked Johnson a number of times after that. Muhammad then picked his shots, but he made the ones he threw count. In the 10th round, Muhammad wobbled Johnson and the end appeared to be approaching. In round 11, Muhammad landed a shot that rocked Johnson back and forced the referee to end matters.
"Everybody knocked my ability and said I didn't have the ability to become world champion," Muhammad said. "Well, I just knocked out the world champion. Now I'm going to prove I'm the best light heavyweight of all time."
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad tore Marvin Johnson's body all to hell in this fight, Muhammad was a ruthless body puncher. Below are two epic photos from the fight, the top photo shows Muhammad digging to Johnson with a brutal uppercut and the second photo shows Marvin Johnson with his trunk covered in blood.
Credit Associated Press
"Eddie Gregory of New York, won the WBA light heavyweight championship Monday night when he stopped Marvin Johnson at 2:43 of the 11th round. Recording the 30th knockout of his career, Gregory sent the champion staggering with a flurry of blows to the head, landing at will, that forced referee Carlos Berrocal of Panama to stop the fight. Gregory scored the only knockdown in the fight in the 3rd round when a left to the body lifted Johnson off the canvas and was followed immediately with a right to the chin that caught the champion before he recovered from the initial blow. Johnson had carried the fight to Gregory in the early rounds, but the challenger took charge in the 7th round, repeatedly landing combinations to the body and head. Johnson appeared to be in serious trouble in the 10th when Gregory landed a vicious right to the belly."
Ringside physician Dr. Robert Whittle sent Johnson for X-rays and it was disclosed Johnson suffered a separated rib.
Promoters cut Gregory's purse before the contest from $50,000 to $25,000.
Post-fight comment:
"I didn't come here for a fight, I just came here to pick up my title. They made me suffer to get this. I defied the boxing world and they have to come to me now." - Eddie Gregory
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was an ruthless body puncher, frequently using a sustained, tactical attack on the ribs and hips to break down opponents. His 11th-round TKO victory over Marvin Johnson is a prime example of his "kill the body and the head will die" approach, showcasing brutal, consistent, and effective body shots to secure the WBA Light Heavyweight title. This is a great in-depth analysis of how Eddie Mustafa Muhammad beat Marvin Johnson by methodically breaking his body down. I love this stuff.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad – Breaking down an Opponent
JULY 22, 2022 / BOXING, VIDEOS / BY FAYZ
Taking Away the Legs
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad fought in a period which can be defined as the greatest era of Light Heavyweight Boxing. Alongside Mustafa there was Dwight Qawi, Matthew Saad Muhammad, John Conteh, Michael Spinks, Victor Galindez, Marvin Johnson and more – an extremely deep pool of talented fighters.
In this article and ensuing video I am having a look at how Mustafa broke down Marvin Johnson by targeting the hips. By punching the hips Mustafa was slowing Johnson down because by hitting the hips the legs will not be able to move as freely which means you now have a more stationary opponent in front of you, this is of course very beneficial if your opponent is someone who likes to dance around the ring.
We can see how Mustafa first targeted the hips with the slip and counter to the body – with Johnson forcing the pace this was a good strategy to slow him down as Mustafa didn’t have to go looking for him. Mustafa would target the hips and eventually forced a knockdown when the legs of Johnson simply gave way from taking too many punches to the hips.
From there Mustafa had hit the hips so much it created openings elsewhere. Mustafa could hit the hips with the hooks opening up the guard of Johnson and then slide an uppercut up the middle, he could also feint a shot to the hips and then punch high to the head and of course after suffering so many punches to the body Johnson looked to cover up the body allowing Mustafa to then target the head – this is also because when someone looks to protect their body they tend to stop their head movement.
This was one of the best demonstrations I have seen at effectively slowing down an opponent, the body punches and hip shots were brutal and these punches stick with you for the rest of the fight so it just built up over the course of the following rounds serving to slow Johnson down and Mustafa was able to almost surgically take him apart and finish him off.
My god those Muhammad body shots on Johnson are a thing of beauty, one after another, just chopped him down like a tree. I love this photo of Eddie Mustafa Muhammad going to the body of Marvin Johnson with an ice-cold look on his face.
And what makes it even more impressive is the fact that Marvin Johnson was a great fighter and dangerous as hell, a hard hitter who waged war with Matthew Saad Muhammad twice, and was a not even a year removed from taking out Victor "The Animal" Galindez. And of course you have to credit Muhammad's co-trainer Slim Robinson, brilliant strategy.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad defeated Jerry "The Bull" Martin by 10th-round TKO on July 20, 1980, at the Playboy Resort in McAfee, NJ. This was a WBA Light Heavyweight title fight where Muhammad successfully made his first title defense.
Mustafa Muhammad Keeps Title; Champion Slows the Pace
By: Michael Katz
Special To the New York Times
July 21, 1980
MCAFEE, N.J., July 20
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, saying it was "so nice and easy" that he became bored, stopped Jerry Martin in the 10th round today in defense of his World Boxing Association light-heavyweight title. The champion, however, was not the only person at the Playboy Resort and Country Club who was bored by the unexpectedly one-sided contest. An overhand right, which followed a left jab, sent Martin down for the second time in the fight, and only the second time in his career, late in the 10th. He got up but Referee Tony Perez halted the bout at 2 minutes 25 seconds as Mustafa Muhammad had the 26- year-old native of Antigua helpless against the ropes.
Champion Slows the Pace
Mustafa Muhammad, in his first fight since changing his name from Eddie Gregory, sent Martin down for the first time late in the fourth with a barrage begun with a right. Martin staggered to his feet at the bell and Slim Jim Robinson, the champion's trainer, lifted Mustafa Muhammad into the air. "Put me down, the fight's not over yet!" yelled the champion. Robinson might have been shocked that the fight was not over, but the crowd of about 1,000 was perhaps more surprised when Mustafa Muhammad did not end it shortly thereafter. He continued battering Martin early in the fifth, but the champion has never fought like a man in a hurry, and he slowed the pace to a crawl.
“He certainly took his time about it, said Matthew Saad Muhammad, who holds the World Boxing Council's version of the 175-pound title. "Eddie just took his time and did it right," said Thomas Hearns, here to publicize his Aug. 2 welterweight title shot against José (Pipino) Cuevas. He did it right and he did it convincingly against an opponent given an excellent chance by many experts. He also did it in slow motion, compared with the recent Saad Muhammad-Yaqui Lopez fight. But Mustafa Muhammd, who has been boxing more than a dozen years, had reasoned that he would have little problems with a man who has been boxing only four years. “I expected an easy fight, not taking anything away from Jerry Martin,” he said. "Sometimes a fight gets so easy you get bored. I could hit him with a jab anytime I wanted. Once I caught myself thinking, 'Oh man, what am I doing here?'"
In front of such ring luminaries as Muhammad Ali, with whom he had trained at Deer Lake, Pa.; Hilmer Kenty, the W.B.A. lightweight champion, and undefeated Gerry Cooney, Mustafa Muhammad put on a technically correct but unexciting performance. He took few chances with a dangerous but outclassed opponent. He outboxed Martin in the middle of the ring and when the man nicknamed The Bull charged to get inside, Mustafa Muhammad usually sidestepped and made Martin pay for that aggression. "Nine times out of 10," said the champion, "the matador usually gets the bull."
Surprisingly, he was outscoring Martin on only two of the three official scorecards. Harold Lederman, one judge, had the fight even after nine rounds on the 10-point scoring system, 85-85. Perez had Muhammad in front, 87-83, and Eva Shain, the other judge, had the champion ahead, 88-82. The New York Times scorecard gave Muhammad six rounds and Martin two, with one even.
Martin, who said his mistake was “laying back,” gained his title shot by outpointing previously undefeated James Scott, the prison inmate at Rahway, N.J. Scott had beaten Mustafa Muhammad in 1978. This was only Martin's second loss against 19 victories. His career almost ended two and a half years ago when he was arrested in Philadelphia as an illegal alien.
For Mustafa Muhammad, who has been fighting professionally since 1972, it was his 37th victory, 31st by knockout, against four losses and a draw. Both fighters weighed 175, the division limit. Mustafa Muhammad said he wanted to fight Scott “most of all," but also wanted to become the first light-heavyweight champion to win the heavyweight title.
Bob Arum, the promoter, is building for an eventual showdown between the two Muhammads to unify the 175-pound title.
That New York Times article hit the nail on the head, Eddie Mustafa Muhammad fought like he wasn't in a hurry, took his sweet time taking his opponents apart, and that helped him have ridiculous reserves of stamina, the kind of fighter that could still be completely fresh going into the 15th, I love watching him fight. Here are some photos from the Jerry "The Bull" Martin fight.
And I'll get into Jerry "The Bull" Martin later in the thread, fascinating fighter himself, went the distance with Marvin Johnson, gave Matthew Saad Muhammad all he could handle, and licked James Scott at Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, dropping him twice in the process, and Scott was no joke, he was beating everyone they threw at him at Rahway.
Speaking of James Scott, Eddie Mustafa Muhammad went there in 1978 and fought Scott. The fight took place at Rahway State Prison in New Jersey, where James Scott was an inmate, he was serving a sentence of 30 to 40 years for armed robbery. The fight was held in the same auditorium at Rahway State Prison where seven years earlier convicts waged a bloody riot and seized six hostages, including the warden. Over 450 paying customers from outside the prison walls sat in the audience while virtually Rahway's entire inmate population watched the fight on three large screens set up in the Drill Hall. The fight was televised live on HBO. Eddie Gregory, who would change his name to Eddie Mustafa Muhammad after winning the WBA light heavyweight title in 1980, entered the fight as the WBA's No. 1-ranked light heavyweight contender.
Gregory was a 4 to 1 betting favorite. Gregory said before the fight: "They say Scott is tough, but how tough can he be? So he fought a couple of stiffs inside the walls and he knocked them out. He hasn't had a real pro fight in almost four years. And now he wants to fight the top contender. You know he's got to be crazy. He's been in here too long. It happens when you stay in these places too long. I'll carry him for 11 rounds and knock him out in the 12th. It'll be a good workout." Pat Putnam of Sports Illustrated reported: "Scott took charge from the start, swarming over Gregory at close quarters, firing punishing hooks from both sides. In the fourth round, he raised an ugly lump under Gregory's left eye. . . . Scott won the fifth round, then coasted through the sixth and seventh, which he lost on all cards. From Round 8 on, he resumed command and never let up. Always it was the same: inside and savage. At the end, with his corner screaming for him to go for a knockout, Gregory was barely able to hang on." Jimmy DiPiano, the father and manager of WBC light heavyweight champion Mike Rossman, was ringside. After the fight, DiPiano was asked if he would allow his son to enter Rahway State Prison and grant Scott a title shot. DiPiano said, "It's going to take an awful, awful lot of money before I'll let my son in the same ring with that monster."
Harold Lederman, who was one of the official judges for the fight, recalled in 2012: "On that day, I thought James Scott was the greatest light heavyweight I ever saw in my life. That's how great he was. On that one day when he beat Gregory, he was the best light heavyweight I ever saw. I never saw a performance like that — anywhere. I don't think Bob Foster was as good as that. I don't think Archie Moore was that good. He was prepared like I never saw in my life." This is a photo of Eddie Mustafa Muhammad and James Scott inside Rahway State Prison during their fight. The thing about Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, his tendency to take his time with opponents could be his undoing at times. If a fighter was hyper-aggessive and overwhelmed him, you had a chance against Muhammad, if not then chances are Muhammad was going to methodically take you apart. Scott was aggressive as hell. One thing about Muhammad, he was tough as a Dollar Store steak, you couldn't take the guy out no matter how much punishment you dealt him. He was stopped once in 59 fights, his last fight, and that was because his heart wasn't in it because his brother had just died.
On July 18, 1981, the Imperial Palace Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, hosted a pivotal boxing match between Eddie Mustafa Muhammad and Michael Spinks for the WBA World Light Heavyweight Title. Promoted by Butch Lewis and refereed by Richard Green, this bout marked a significant turning point in the careers of both fighters.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, with a record of 38-5-1, was the reigning champion, having returned to the light heavyweight division after a failed attempt to compete in the heavyweight category. He weighed in at 175 pounds for the fight.
Michael Spinks, undefeated at 16-0-0 and weighing 173¾ pounds, was a rising star and a former Olympic gold medallist in the middleweight division. This was his 17th professional fight, and he was looking to dethrone Muhammad to claim the title.
The fight was intense and closely contested, with both fighters displaying their skills. Muhammad started strong, landing several good combinations and jabs, particularly in the early rounds. However, as the fight progressed, Spinks's aggression and punching power began to take its toll on Muhammad.
By the later rounds, Muhammad was visibly fatigued, but he showed remarkable courage and gameness in continuing to fight despite the punishment he was taking. Spinks, on the other hand, was relentless, landing several hard blows that included a devastating right that resulted in the first knockdown of the fight in the eighth round.
Despite Muhammad's valiant efforts to survive, Spinks dominated the final rounds, showcasing his superior punching power and endurance. The judges' scores reflected Spinks's dominance: Judge Duane Ford scored 146-138, Judge Lou Tabat scored 144-140, and Judge Charles Spampinato scored 145-139, all in favour of Michael Spinks.
This victory marked a significant milestone for Spinks, as he became the new WBA World Light Heavyweight Champion, solidifying his position as a formidable force in the light heavyweight division. The fight highlighted Spinks's potential and set the stage for his future successes, including his eventual move to the heavyweight division.
Let me first start off by saying, Michael Spinks was never beaten at light heavyweight, you're talking about maybe the greatest light heavy ever, there's not many fighters in the history of this sport I would pick to beat a prime Michael Spinks at light heavyweight. He was that great. Eddie Mustafa Muhammad was actually ahead on the scorecards up until about the 8th when Spinks turned up the voltage and became aggressive. In the 12th, Spinks caught Muhammad with a right hand, the "Jinx", and floored him. After that it was obvious that Muhammad was fighting hurt, and Spinks smelled blood in the water and went ape$hit trying to finish him. He hit Muhammad with everything and the kitchen sink but couldn't put him away, too damn tough. I swear, I'll never know how Muhammad made it to the final bell, he was made of material not of this Earth. At one point in the 12th, Spinks hit him with over 60 unanswered shots before Muhammad started firing back and still couldn't put him away. Eddie Mustafa Muhammad finished on his feet and lost a unanimous decision. But my god, what a display of sheer toughness by Muhammad. Here are the highlights from this classic.
Some great shots from the Eddie Mustafa Muhammad vs Michael Spinks fight.
Cool program from the fight with a scorecard box on the front.
This is a photo of a young Eddie Mustafa Muhammad knocking out Tom Seisinger in 1969 in a preliminary at St. Anthony of Padua in Queens, New York. He would later beat Vito Antuofermo for the 147-lb open title.
This is an awesome item that Eddie Mustafa Muhammad autographed using his old nickname, "The Flame." Interestingly, it shows a photo of him during his fight with "Cyclone" Eugene Hart in 1974, I've been looking for a photo from that fight, Eugene Hart was an absolute murderous left hook artist. Muhammad actually won the fight against Hart by brutal KO in the 4th, like the caption says, Muhammad was a thunderous puncher himself.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad fight pose sequence.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad on the cover of Boxing Illustrated in June of 1980 with Matthew Saad Muhammad and Mike Weaver.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad and Matthew Saad Muhammad on the cover of Boxing Illustrated in April of 1981.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad on the cover of World Boxing magazine in July of 1981.
A bare-fisted Eddie Mustafa Muhammad on a Flash Gordon boxing program on September 5th, 1982.
Awesome signed photo of Eddie Mustafa Muhammad.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad with that look on his face.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad wearing his WBA light heavyweight title.
Eddie Mustafa Muhammad talks to the press after beating Marvin Johnson for the WBA light heavyweight title in 1981.
Absolutely wicked KO magazine fold-out poster of Eddie Mustafa Muhammad holding his WBA light heavyweight title.
The great Eddie Mustafa Muhammad, aka "The Flame."
Muhammad Ali with John Lennon.
"I ever tell you how I became a fighter? There was this sergeant from Texas in our company, and he wanted to know if there was a mensch in the whole outfit. I had to show him. When l got back to Brockton, Massachussetts, and started in the amateurs, Mom yelled at me, 'Rocky, you've been fighting, haven't you?''
''No, l haven't Mom. What makes you think that?''
''Rocky,' she answered, 'your nose is getting flatter.''
Wicked image of "The Cuban Hawk" Kid Gavilan about the hit Eugene "Silent" Hairston with a bolo punch. Look at Gavilan's arm freakishly recoiled and Hairston bracing for impact, damn what a photo.
Mike Tyson with Tupac Shakur.
Joe Louis and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
The famous Jack Dempsey's Broadway Restaurant, owned by the heavyweight boxing champion, was located in the Brill Building on Broadway between 49th and 50th Streets in Manhattan, New York City. Established in 1935 (originally on Eighth Avenue) and moved to Broadway in 1947, it was a iconic Midtown spot until it closed in 1974.
Max Boxing
In Search of Jack Dempsey: A bar and a nail
March 16th, 2021
By: Khadi Madama
Stunned momentarily, I turned around to see who it was, but before I could utter a word, my father said hello to Jack Dempsey, who by now was smiling down at me.
So, I’m in bar in New York, sipping my cocktail and devouring a steak in a restaurant on Broadway just minding my own business. It wasn’t long before I was startled by a very big and heavy hand connecting to the back of my chair.
Stunned momentarily, I turned around to see who it was, but before I could utter a word, my father said hello to Jack Dempsey, who by now was smiling down at me. Did I mention that at the time, I was sipping a Shirley Temple? After all I was a mere nine years old and it was 1957.
I had absolutely no idea who Jack Dempsey was. No idea that he was at the center of maybe the most controversial boxing match in the history of the sport, still referenced and talked about to this day, The Long Count.
I also had no idea that THE Manassa Mauler was this friendly, warm, smiling man who gave me a souvenir of my visit. A tiny pair of leather boxing gloves with Dempsey’s printed on its attached ribbon. It became one of my favorite treasures because as a girl of 9, I loved tiny things. Lost in a house fire in the 1960’s, it took me more than 40 years to finally replace them when by sheer luck someone was selling a pair from his private stock. They were $40.00. A bargain. One dollar for each year.
I paid it gratefully and now they grace the Boxing Media & Press Office here in New Jersey along with a vintage authentic “Kewpie” Doll pin, exactly like the one Jack Dempsey wore on his coat for good luck when strolling the street outside his restaurant each morning. It’s adorning the drapes behind Eamo Clyne’s desk.
I never forgot Dempsey after that first meeting, and when I was a in my teens, I acquired an 8 mm film clip of The Long Count, which is now transferred to DVD. I list Dempsey as my number 1 favorite all-time boxer along with Joe Louis because I can’t choose one over the other. Classic Joe fights always bring me to tears, but Dempsey I had met, spoken with and was treated as if I were a grown up in a bar restaurant where, as a young girl, I could have felt out of my element.
Not with Dempsey. It was obvious that he loved to be with the patrons in his establishment and to make sure that they enjoyed his food and were well looked after.
In 1974 due to circumstances beyond Dempsey’s control, the restaurant closed. An icon, a gathering place, was now gone and as time went by, its memory faded at least just a little from my memory until Eamo Clyne got to the Jersey shore and we took up looking for boxing in places where no one would dream of finding it.
Eamo Clyne has a large following and somewhere along the line someone must have messaged me to let me in on the secret that one third of Dempsey’s original Broadway bar was bought by owners of a restaurant in nearby Pine Beach, NJ. The establishment was known as the Lamp Post Inn and it’s been there ever since with an autographed picture of Dempsey right behind it above the bar.
Could have knocked me over with a feather, as it’s only five minutes from my home and I never knew.
What we needed was a plan. We wanted a part of the bar, anything, a chip of wood, a rubbing of the wood design, a loose screw. We were like two heat-seeking missiles, or two mice in search of cheese.
Not a drinking gal, I had enough seltzer and Eamo enough Guinness slowly nursed, to re-flood Brisbane. We tried this on two different attempts and wondered what Willie Sutton would have done in a case like this. We wanted a chip off the old block as a souvenir and our situation was becoming dire as I tried to wiggle a lose nail out of its hole to no avail, while Eamo chatted people up to create a diversion.
The nail was unrelenting and I was never able to free it from the hard mahogany. Only a few months later, the restaurant sold and was closed for repairs. Then all hell broke loose and we were in the middle of a long haul with the pandemic of 2020. To this day in 2021, the Lamp Post Inn has still not opened although it has been fully renovated and Jack’s bar is still there.
Terrified that the new owners would throw the old bar out, I made it a point to check on it periodically. It wasn’t until late fall of 2020 that a construction crew was there working on the roof, and due to the balmy weather, the door to the bar was open. I slipped in unnoticed, into the still under construction bar, I telephoned my partner in crime, Eamo Clyne who’s currently in Dublin, to tell him that I was surreptitiously going inside to get that darn nail.
After all, the workers were far up on the roof and had no idea I was even there. Also, the nail in question was a safety hazard, protruding out from underneath the bar. I deemed that I was rendering a service by removing it, if I could. I carefully approached the place where the sharp protrusion had been but to my grand disappointment, the nail was gone. All the nails were gone and all replaced by screws.
Dejected at having failed the mission, I exited the bar and finally got to speak with the crew. They had no idea when the bar would open. I’ve been in touch with the owner who will let me know when he’s going to open so that I can interview him and do a new article about The Lamp Post Inn and Jack’s bar, which is a good thing.
He has no idea that when I do get to go inside to give him an interview, that while I’m sitting at the bar sipping a Shirley Temple with my framed picture of Dempsey beside me, I’ll be working out how I’m going to get a piece of that bar before I leave.
"The Manassa Mauler" Jack Dempsey outside his famous restaurant.
''I thank God every day to have come through my boxing career in good shape. I also give thanks for never causing an opponent's deaťh or serious injury. It's pretty well documented that most head traumas in boxing are caused by an accumulation of punches. l usually got the job done with just one or two.''
Phenomenal image of Earnie Shavers in his prime, arguably the hardest one-shot puncher in boxing history.
Shavers: The Legendary Hardest Hitter Who Struck Fear Into Opponents
In the world of professional boxing, there have been countless legends, each with their unique style and accomplishments. Among them, one name stands out for his ferocious power and relentless determination: Earnie Shavers. Often referred to as “The Acorn,” Shavers was not only one of the hardest hitters in boxing history, but he also had a legendary training regimen and an unforgettable record. In this article, we’ll explore the awe-inspiring career of Earnie Shavers, the Hall of Famer who will forever be remembered for his incredible punching power.
Earnie Shavers: The hardest hitter in boxing
Earnie Shavers was a heavyweight boxer who gained his reputation as one of the hardest hitters to ever grace the squared circle. His punching power was nothing short of legendary, and opponents feared the devastating force he could unleash with a single blow. Shavers possessed the kind of power that could turn the tide of a fight in an instant, leaving his adversaries in awe of his might.
Shavers’ punching power wasn’t just a product of genetics; it was the result of years of hard work and dedication. He had a natural gift for punching, but he honed that gift through relentless training and discipline, which only added to his reputation as a fearsome opponent.
The Crazy Training Schedule
Earnie Shavers was a true workhorse when it came to training. His training regimen was nothing short of grueling, and it played a pivotal role in shaping him into the feared puncher he became. Shavers would often spend countless hours in the gym, focusing on perfecting his technique, building strength, and improving his stamina.
One of Shaver’s’ signature training routines involved hitting the heavy bag with incredible force. He would wear specially designed gloves filled with lead pellets to increase the weight, making his punches even more powerful. This extreme form of training not only toughened his fists but also improved his overall punching technique.
Legendary Record
Earnie Shavers’ professional record is a testament to his greatness as a heavyweight boxer. Throughout his career, he faced some of the best fighters of his era, and his record boasts an impressive number of victories, many of them coming by way of knockout. His ability to end fights with a single punch was something that set him apart from his contemporaries.
Shavers boxing record: won 74 professional bouts (68 by knockout), lost 14, and fought to one draw
One of Shavers’ most famous fights was against the legendary Muhammad Ali in 1977. Although he didn’t win the fight, he managed to knock Ali down in the second round, showcasing his incredible power. Shavers’ record includes wins over other notable opponents such as Jimmy Ellis and Ken Norton.
Hall of Famer and Legacy
In 1995, Earnie Shavers was rightfully inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. His legacy as one of the hardest hitters in the history of the sport was firmly cemented, and he continues to be celebrated by boxing enthusiasts around the world.
Earnie Shavers will forever be remembered for his extraordinary punching power, his relentless training schedule, and his legendary record. His reputation was so fearsome that even the great George Foreman, known for his own devastating power, avoided facing Shavers during his prime. Foreman once famously said, “Earnie Shavers hit me so hard, he shook my kinfolk back in Africa.”
Earnie Shavers, “The Acorn,” was more than just a heavyweight boxer; he was a force of nature in the ring. His incredible punching power, insane training regimen, and legendary record all contribute to his status as one of boxing’s all-time greats. Shaver’s’ legacy will continue to inspire future generations of boxers, and his name will forever be etched in the annals of boxing history as one of the hardest hitters to ever lace up a pair of gloves.
Man, I'll tell you what, Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard was a brutal puncher, light heavyweight in the 1940s, the only man to ever knockout the granite-chinned Joey Maxim.
PHILLY BOXING HISTORY
THE HATCHETMAN
By: Aram "Rocky" Alkazoff
The "Hatchetman."
Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard.
Something about the name gives you a cold feeling.
Roll it around your mouth and you get the notion you're saying the name of a old time outlaw or gunfighter. That's some nickname, "Hatchetman". How many guys in boxing get a nickname like that? I was starting to think I might have what it took to be a pro fighter when I first heard the name. I was only a teenager, but guys in the neighborhood told me I had a big punch in both hands. That thought got into my young head, and I started to read anything on boxing I could get my hands on. No Gene Tunneys, Billy Conns, Willie Peps, or Tippy Larkins for me. I only wanted to read about the guys who could crack. I related to Dempsey, Louis, Marciano, Sonny Liston. I wanted to be one of them.
I remember how impressed I was by Rocky Marciano, how he had destroyed so many legendary names, but the job he did on Archie Moore amazed me the most. I couldn't believe anybody hit hard enough to bust up the great Moore the way Rocky did.
So what happens? I read a Ring Magazine article about The "Old Mongoose" in which he was asked who was the hardest hitter he ever faced. I'm expecting him to rave about Rocky and what does he say? It went something like this: "Hatchetman" Sheppard. This guy was something else! When the Hatchetman hit you it was like a electric shock struck you! Hatchetman knocked me down so hard I bounced off the canvas. I decisioned him twice mainly by making him miss."
Who the hell was Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard? Could he really hit harder than the tremendous fighters Moore was in with? Guys like Marciano, Charles, Patterson, Ali, and Harold Johnson? There was a picture of the Hatchetman in the article and I took a close look at it. Curtis was a dark-skinned black guy with a cold, destroying look in his eyes. Standing with his shoulders hunched in fighting position. he looked the every image of Disaster. Big bones, gigantic fists, and smooth muscles. I imagined getting hit with his straight right. What was it Moore said?
"This guy once hit a guy so hard he broke his collarbone."
Looking at him, that was easy to believe.
The second time I read something about Hatchetman was in a book called "The Great Fights". It mentioned that Joey Maxim, whom I recalled as an iron jawed, defensive boxer, suffered only one KO in his entire career--a one round destruction by Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, a "tremendous puncher". That lesson was never forgotten by Maxim, who thereafter became a safety-first boxer and out boxed Sheppard a month later. But Sheppard had managed to knock Maxim out, whereas Walcott, Moore, Charles, Robinson, and Patterson couldn't. I wondered why I had never heard about him; I figured he must be one of those black fighters of the thirties and forties who couldn't catch a break. A Charley Burley-Lloyd Marshall type. To be black fighter with a murderous punch in that era was to be a victim of...well, let's call it "bad timing."
The years passed, and I didn't become a champion in the ring. I found a new profession, new friends, and a whole different way of life. But I kept up my interest as a fan, and I never forgot the name Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard or what Archie Moore said about him. One day in early 1988 I was indicted by the United States Government for various "organized criminal" offenses. The charges were laid, I believe, so as to pressure me into informing on people about whom the feds thought I had meaningful information. I was found guilty and given a life sentence.
After almost a year in Detroit Wayne County Jail, suffering through not only a lengthy trial, but a long detainment in solitary confinement for assault on a County sheriff I felt had disrespected me, I was chained up and transported to Chicago. In Federal custody I was driven to M.C.C. Chicago, a skyscraper prison in the middle of downtown, not far from where I had been raised. It was a holding building for people in Federal trial, court, informants, and those in transit to the Bureau of Prisons correctional system.
As I climbed out of the bus in the M.C.C. garage, some fresh air got into my lungs for a second. The first fresh air I had taken in for a year. You can imagine the shape I was in, what with the confinement, lack of exercise, terrible food, and depression. I was a mess, a shadow of the man I used to be. I was forty years old and facing the reality of spending the rest of my life in prison, all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When I reached the thirteenth floor and a bunk, I was very tired. I spotted a few people I knew from the streets, but I didn't even want to talk. I was ashamed of what I looked like. I went into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror for the first time in a year. I didn't like what I saw. My face was drawn, my eyes worn, my hair long and unruly, with twice as much gray as before. My rock hard 190 pounds was no more. I had a little stomach for the first time, and my muscles felt like they had no power. I put my head down in misery and hurt. Then I heard a man's voice speaking words I'll never forget. "C'mon Rocky. Pick up your head and act like the man I heard you were," he said. "I heard you was a good fighter. Well, now you're in the first round of a tough fight. C'mon, son. You've got a fight in front of you and it's time to start fighting back." I looked up and saw a tall, very dark-skinned black man who had the kindest eyes I had ever seen. His eyebrows were grayed and I could see more gray in his beard, but that didn't tell the whole story. Dressed in an orange prison jump suit, his forearms and biceps were solid, sinewy. He had a tucked-in waist and broad powerful shoulders, along with the absolute biggest fists I have ever seen. He was shaved bald, wore spectacles, and was carrying a big black Bible. He was so impressive in his health and vitality for a man his age, I might have been worried had he not been so gentle in manner.
"I heard you was a pretty good fighter when you was younger," he said.
"I tried it some, but I didn't go all the way like maybe I should have," I answered, figuring he had talked to someone who knew me.
"That's why I knew I could talk to you," he said. "You ever heard of
Curtis "the Hatchetman" Sheppard? That's me."
The minute he said the name, I remembered the article and the picture. It was him! He was older, but it was him. Same head, same expression, same body and fists. The first thought I had was, "No wonder Moore said he hit so hard." One look at him and you knew he was built to punch. Imagine him saying he heard I was a pretty good fighter! Hatchetman Sheppard talking to me like I was good enough to relate to a fighter like him. I was ashamed to let him see me in this shape.
"Course I heard of you, Curtis," I said with respect. "You was some fighter. Archie Moore said you was the hardest hitter he ever boxed."
"Joe Maxim said it too," he laughed. "Two champs. But these young kids out there don't know. I heard you got "life", Rock. Is that true?"
"Yeah I did, Curtis," I answered, looking down. "I let them get to me. I broke down in the "Hole", man. I got down on myself and let myself go soft. I'm ashamed to let a great fighter like you see me like this. How about you, Curtis? What have they got...."
"Rocky, I have done over thirty-two years in prison for two crimes that I had no choice about," he said, cutting me off. "I've been on "death row" twice. I've been so far in hurt and hell, that I never thought I'd live again like a human being. I lost control just like you did. But with God I came back. I stayed locked up, but I became a proud man again. I got my pride back. That's what I want for you, Rocky. I want you to show me and God that you're a champion. I want you to pick yourself off the canvas and start fighting back like the great fighter I know you are."
Here was a guy who fought Moore, Walcott, Maxim, Bettina, and Bivins, and who had done thirty years plus, telling me to pick up my head and act like the fighter I was. He was telling me to come back to life after the death blow of my sentence! Who was I that he should talk to me like that? He didn't even know me.
I glanced up at him and was greeted by a smile, and a huge hand on my shoulder.
"I'm praying for you son," he said. "You clean up and come on out. We can talk about the old fighters. These young boys out here don't know anything. I need a buddy to take my side."
That was the beginning of my rebirth and my friendship with Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, who went from being one of boxing's most feared fighters, to possibly the most feared man in the Illinois Penitentiary System, to a gentle giant carrying a Bible.
The next day I said a prayer, got a haircut, ate three meals, and started doing pushups and sit-ups with a seventy-four year old man. That was the beginning of my rebirth and the long road back.
As luck would have it, me and the Hatchetman were to both go to Oxford Federal Prison in Wisconsin. We sat next to each other on the bus, and I have to tell you I enjoyed the ride just to see some trees! Hatchetman was like a big happy kid on the ride, and was uncuffed to be a "trustee". That meant he brought water and served lunch, as well as doing cleanup. Watching this older man's energy and spirit was inspiring. My determination to do more than just survive grew as I watched him.
"You get a good rest Rocky," he said. "When we get to Oxford, heavy training starts. You start with your comeback."
He meant it.
When we arrived at Oxford, which was a double-fenced, razor- wired hell in the middle of forests, Hatchetman was enthused.
"This is beautiful," he said happily. "Good air. Perfect for a training camp."
He made me forget it was prison for a second.
Gradually I found out more about the Hatchetman. It was a hell of story.
While Hatchetman was fighting in the late forties, he admitted that due to training he neglected his wife. He made good money as a fighter, and was renowned in the black community. He lived the high life of nightclubs, entertainers, athletes, and the famous. Eventually due to his neglect his wife took a Chicago policeman for a lover.
"She always had a thing for those 'high yaller' fellows," he said, shaking his head.
Hatchetman found them together, a fight ensued, and Hatchetman shot the officer to death. His wife, mother of his only child, a son, ran almost naked to a police station. Her testimony put Hatchetman away for twenty long hard years. A year later, his wife's corpse was found in Lake Michigan.
All kinds of rumors floated around the city and the prisons about her death. It was said, that Hatchetman was a "mob" fighter and she had been killed in retaliation. Another rumor that--against all logic--persisted until the present day was that Hatchetman killed her and chopped off her head.
"Rock I'm telling you, this is the way it happened," said ----------, a known Chicago Black Gangster Disciple gang leader.
"Hatchetman came home and found her and the cop together. He stabbed the cop, killed his wife and chopped off her head. Then he went to a bar, ordered a drink, put his wife's head on the bar and said, "Give her a drink too."
I was told that story by at least twenty seasoned convicts from Chicago, who had heard of him or known him from Illinois prisons.
"That story was just a rumor, Rocky," Hatchetman said. "I couldn't have killed my wife even if I'd had the opportunity. I was in love with her. She was my son's mamma. When I heard she died, no one grieved as much as me. But it wasn't any of my doing. These people in prison heard the name 'Hatchetman', and shoot, they didn't know nothing about boxing. They figured I got the name for chopping up people. They didn't know it was because of my punching. I heard the stories but I was so crazy back then, I didn't even care. But no, son, I never killed my wife."
Hatchetman was bitter about the sentence and he did his twenty years with hate. He formed a gang in the prison system known as the "Black Gangsters", and established himself as Gangster number one. He became the most feared man in the prison system, not only because of his position as gang leader, but because of the ruthless way he used his fists on anyone who opposed him.
"I was taken over by the devil," he'd say with disgust.
"Taken over by the devil" meant just that. Hatchetman became involved the terrible activities that prison hatred breeds. His reputation as a fearsome inmate grew. Many a young boy in Cook County jail facing prison was greeted by seasoned cons with the warning, "Man, they gonna send you to Stateville and old' Hatchetman will be waiting for you. He'll take a pretty young guy like you and knock you out and use you like a girl. He's so big and mean, there ain't gonna be a goddamn thing you can do about it!"
Hatchetman's reputation came to reach mythic proportions. People forgot he had actually been a quality boxer who'd knocked down champions. Eventually he joined the Black Muslims and changed his name to Curtis X. He became a leader in promoting racial hatred and violence--this only added to his rep.
I heard dozens of stories concerning Hatchetman's activities during this period, one detailing how he fought the entire "goon squad", a group made up of tough convicts, used by the guards to break down incorrigible inmates. Goon squad members were hated and looked down upon as snitches, and were housed away from the other prisoners. They received early releases and benefits for this kind of help, and they caused so many revenge murders that the use of such groups is no longer permitted. The squad was cut loose upon Hatchetman one day to discipline him, and outnumbered 20 to 1, he fought them to a standstill. Finally he was tied down, drugged and given electronic shock treatments to keep him quiet.
"That was terrible son," Hatchetman said. "Just terrible.
Terrible days and bad memories. No way for men to treat each other."
Hatchetman did his time, and after twenty years was released into the streets. He took his prison reputation with him and became involved in many brutal activities. Disaster finally caught up to him one night when he beat a man over a gambling dispute. The man returned and shot Hatchetman in the head. Bleeding badly, Hatchetman nevertheless overpowered the man. He took away the gun and killed him. Hatchetman barely survived. After the incident he was charged and found guilty of second degree murder, receiving another twenty year sentence. Even today the bullet hole is visible in his skull and he has to take constant medication to prevent seizures.
This brush with death brought Hatchetman to the brink of insanity. He admits to almost losing his grip, but like so many men of religious conviction he had a profound mystical experience that led him to devote his life to Jesus Christ. During this second prison experience, which started when the Hatchetman was in his fifties, he was a different man.
Hatchetman was sent to Pontiac Penitentiary in Illinois, and this time he was armed with his newfound faith. He became the head of boxing program, which produced the finest teams in the history of the Illinois prison system. His training program produced quite a few professionals, including "Jumbo" Cummings who fought Joe Frazier to a draw in Joe's last fight. But more significantly, Hatchetman coached hundreds of young men in the basics of boxing and training, and kept them away from the hellish temptations of prison life. Many, many men who were released from prison and became useful citizens will attest to this.
Hatchetman came to be a preacher of moral behavior and tolerance, a voice of reason in an inferno of racial hatred. Many inmates were saved a terrible beating because of Hatchetman's intervention in the name of peace. It was a much different prison "bit" for Hatchetman this time, and things went well for a while. But eventually trouble found him again. Twice.
The first incident occurred after Hatchetman had become the head cook in the kitchen. He had to fight off gang leaders who wanted to steal a disproportionate number of hamburgers on hamburger day for their gang. (Hamburgers and chicken are like gold in prison chow halls.) Hatchetman informed them that they couldn't do that--if they did then other inmates would not get fed. As long as he was head cook each inmate would get his fair amount. He told them they could have the leftovers after everyone had been fed. Of course he was in the right, and one on one, man to man, he was a match for any three of them, even at that age. They backed off. But later he was ambushed by "hit men" with knives who stuck him in the back several times. Once again bloody but unbowed, Hatchetman not only survived but gave chase, forcing the attackers to lock up for protection. They tried him, but nobody got those extra burgers. He still carries the scars from that attack.
The second incident was more tragic. A powerful inmate in his twenties, the enforcer for a black prison gang, was harassing a much smaller inmate for sexual favors. Hatchetman saw what was going on and asked him to please leave the smaller man alone. The enforcer, taking Hatchetman's plea as a disrespect for his position, cursed and threatened him. Before long, he began harassing Hatchetman and announcing that he was gonna kill him. Hatchetman did not start a fight, but took to carrying a homemade "ice pick" for self defense. One day the enforcer got behind Hatchetman and hit him on the head, an almost killing blow with a lead pipe. The blow bashed in Hatchetman's skull, and with blood flowing like water, in a crazed rage, the Hatchetman wrestled down his attacker and killed him with his "ice pick", after saying that he was sending him "to hell, where he belongs." Surviving the crushed skull, which left a depression in his head that is still visible next to his earlier gunshot wound, Hatchetman was found guilty of first degree murder and placed on "death row".
Entering the hell of loneliness and darkness again, this time Hatchetman was sustained by his faith. After about a year, his prayers were answered by a white ex-inmate from Southern Illinois, who had turned over a new leaf upon release and become a expert paralegal--he was also a heavyweight who had been trained by Hatchetman during his prison time. The man recalled Hatchetman's many kindnesses and came to his rescue. After a lengthy appeals process, Hatchetman's conviction was overturned on the grounds of self-defense.
The Hatchetman had almost four years left on his sentence, but because the dead man had been a member of a large prison gang, it was unsafe for him to be in the State of Illinois correctional system. It was decided that for his own protection he would finish out his time in the Federal system, and this is where I got to know him.
When I arrived at Oxford, I was glad to finally get into the fresh air, but even a walk around the track tired me. I was in awful shape. Hatchetman became my trainer., and I found a friend about my age, a ex amateur fighter named Wali Ali, who had been a "Fruit of Islam" bodyguard of Muhammad Ali, who also wanted to get back in shape. We decided to be Hatchetman's boxing stable--we were called the "Over The Hill Gang" by the other inmates.
"Listen," said Hatchetman . "I'm from the old school, and if I'm the trainer we do it my way. I'm like Jack Blackburn or Doc Kearns. I'm the boss. What I say goes. I give the order and you do what I say. I don't want any backtalk. I want discipline and obedience. I'm doing this for you. Not for myself. You'll see the result. But no questions. Just action. First rule--always bring a towel and a cap when I train you...."
Me and Wali started running on the track like "two old Kentucky mules," and were as slow as dripping honey. But one mile, became two, then three, and after a while we were doing five and finishing up with a sprint.
"C'mon, c'mon," cried Hatchetman as the ninety degree heat bore down on us and, tiring, we approached the final sprint. "Think about Rocky Marciano with a split nose! He never quit! Think of old man Archie Moore getting off the canvas! He never quit! Think of great fighters! Joe Louis! Billy Conn! Henry Armstrong!"
How the hell could we quit with him yelling that at us? No way.
Eventually we got to where we would carry a twenty-five pound weight up and down hills for a half hour. He pushed us just as hard in our other exercises--heavy bag, speed bag, jump rope, medicine ball and calisthenics.
Ali and I started off splitting one round on the heavy bag. That was all we could manage, being so out of shape. But soon, with the Hatchetman pushing us, we could do a half-hour apiece with no problem, at top speed. The younger inmates were impressed.
One time Wali was on the heavy bag during a hot day, and was in the eighth round, struggling with the heat,
"I'm gettin" tired," he said, knowing that Hatchetman would disapprove of his talking, yet so exhausted the words just came out.
"You take that tired talk to almighty Allah or whatever you call God," said Hatchetman in a loud voice. "Complaints like that are His business. But I want ten rounds out of you! He can have the rest..."
All the inmates within listening distance turned around in shock. Ali just looked at me, shook his head, and kept punching.
That's the kind of trainer Hatchetman was. No nonsense, and a answer for everything.
Another thing about Hatchetman that commanded respect was that he would hit the bags and run, too. At this time he was about seventy-seven years old and about two hundred and twenty five pounds--he was amazing.
Among inmates there's a saying that "prison preserves you." Which is to say that the rest and natural discipline of prison life keeps you looking like you did when you came in, without much aging. I have to agree with that saying; I have seen many men in prison who look and act at least twenty years younger than their calendar age. But the Hatchetman, along with Sonny Franzeze, a Columbo family capo, who was also seventy-eight, with thirty years of prison under his belt...they were the most amazing physical specimens I ever saw.
Hatchetman's fists were so big, we had no bag gloves for him, so he taped his hands and wore big knitted mittens that he made himself. Then he would hit the heavy and speed bags for eight or ten rounds. Hard crunching punches, that popped with power, widening the eyes of any onlookers. His hands were so heavy, he would throw a sweeping punch in which the inside of his fist would strike the back of the bag and knock it sideways. This was an old tactic he had used to dismantle boxers.
"I'd do that to knock their equilibrium back," he said. It was a killer.
He'd do his exercises and roadwork with the same vigor. He was just an incredible genetic specimen. You couldn't help but love him and respond to his coaching, seeing how great he was at his age, and considering what he had been through.
I got in better and better shape, and after about a year and a half, Hatchetman took me to the prison law library.
"Rocky, now that you walk and look like a fighter again," he said. "I want you in this law library. I want you to research your case and start fighting this thing in the appeals courts. You have a life sentence and I want you to never give up the fight."
He then said a prayer.
"It don't hurt to have God help you, Rock," he said.
He was right.
My prison life became a tornado of training and studying the law.
I could go on and on talking about the good things Hatchetman did behind the walls of prison, but suffice it to say he was the voice of reason, common sense, and survival to many men at a time when they needed a friend the most. He had a knack for picking out inmates who seemed lost and helping them. Most importantly of all he steered people away from gangs and racial hatred.
"Son, I've been a gangster, a boxer, a bodyguard, a Black Muslim, a gang leader, and the most feared man on the block. I've been in the lonely pit of hell, locked in with the devil trying to take my soul. It was Jesus Christ that pulled me out. I've been through everything and only Jesus Christ is left as the answer. That I know. He saved me and He can save you..."
It was hard to not listen to this big black-skinned man with the massive shoulders, huge fists and gentle voice. He commanded your attention for he spoke from experience.
When he'd see black inmates, who were in the majority, talking racial hatred and planning violence against whites and others he'd say, "Don't tell me about slavery being a white and black thing only. If the truth is known, niggers sold niggers into slavery and made money from it. Judge a man for what he is, not his color."
Hatchetman had a curious hobby for such a war-like man. He knitted. The big knit caps and gloves that he knitted were all over the prisons. The big knit caps that Archie Moore used to wear near the end of his life were gifts from the Hatchetman to his old nemesis in the ring.
"I gotta love Archie," he'd smile. "He always used to come to see me and support me in prison. Joey Maxim too. They are two real champs."
My favorite times with Hatchetman were when we'd discuss the old fighters and his fights. There weren't many in prison who knew his era and could talk about it, and he loved that I could. These were some of his comments.
"Walcott was the best," he said. "Jersey hit like a mule and he knew how to draw you in."
"Moore hit the hardest of anybody I fought. Either hand. He could drop a bomb on your head. Every round was tough. I only hit him twice and both times I floored him. I don't know how he got up. I hit him so hard I thought I killed him, but he just got up. Archie was strong."
"Maxim was strong. He had a very strong body. He could hold you in close. That was his thing. That's how he beat me the first time. The second time I nailed him early. After that I had to fight him twenty days later. He ran like a thief and I wore the cuffs. But give him credit. He was as good as any. After that knockout everyone ran from me."
"Melio Bettina was clever, rough, strong. I was tired from Lee Q. Murray. Fought him a month before. But Bettina was tough. Him and Moore would have been a good match."
"I fought Lee Q. Murray six times. He'd be a champ today. He would'a beat Riddick Bowe or Holyfield."
"Jimmy Bivins was all arms. He never tried to punch with me. He knew better. All arms and elbows. Good fighter."
We talked about them all Lloyd Marshall, Tony Musto, Willie Reddish, Nate Bolden.
"You were a sparring partner for Louis weren't you, Hatchetman?" I asked.
"Just for a second," he laughed. "Oh he hit so hard! He'd try to kill you. Nothing was worth that kind of money. He knocked out big Max Baer for damn sake! Knocking out Baer was like chopping a tree! Oh, Louis could hurt you! I got out of his camp quick."
Did he hit harder than Max Baer?
"Louis could hurt you, but Max Baer could kill you!" He laughed.
"After he killed fighters he held back. He became a clown. But his sparring partners told me he could kill you by accident. He could hit that hard. But Louis was the better fighter."
"What match would you have liked to have seen?"
"Tony Zale versus Ray Robinson," he said, with eyes far away in the past. "Zale was so strong and tough, and Ray wouldn't have ran. That would been some fight."
"Who was the best pound for pound?"
"Being from Pittsburgh," he said., "I knew how good Burley was, and Billy Conn. Don't forget Zivic. He was a killer, but they kept the cuffs on him. There was so many. But for some reason I think of Ezzard Charles. Before he killed Baroudi he was beautiful. I was surprised Marciano beat him like he did. I didn't think anyone his size could beat him twice like that. That gives you an idea of how tough Marciano was and how hard he hit. Marciano's secret was his ability to avoid women and night life. He could keep coming and with that chin and power, he couldn't be denied."
"How much did you weigh in your prime?" I asked.
"About 188," he said.
"How come so little?" I said. "You're a big guy. How come so light."
"Back then heavyweights didn't carry no fat like now. They wanted to be quick. Plus no one lifted weights. They slow you up. Louis, Dempsey, Walcott all could have weighed two fifteen or twenty if they wanted. Baer was a giant. But the thing was, no one carried fat weight like today."
"Could the modern fighters have beaten the old timers?"
"No way. Ali couldn't have beaten Louis or Marciano. Even the best of the modern guys like Monzon, Hagler, Foster, and Sugar Ray Leonard. No way could they have dominated in my era. Duran is the best of the moderns and even without the cuffs I don't know if he could have beaten Ike Williams. Kids come up tougher back then. They were hungry."
I noticed how much respect Hatchetman gave to the older Chicago and New York mob guys who were locked up with us. It seemed he couldn't break the habit of thinking they had big power, even in here. These were very old guys from his era; they were fight fans and remembered the Hatchetman. Watching him when was around them gave me a picture of how powerful the mob must have been in the fight game during his time.
We used to sit and talk boxing with the mob guys, and fixed fights and "handcuffs" and so on were routinely discussed. They talked of famous fights and famous fighters, too. Hatchetman never disagreed with them. He'd only smile and nod, giving me the impression it was all the truth.
"Handcuffs were for fighters not to lose too bad, but by a decision, or to let someone go the distance," Hatchetman told me. "A fixed knockout was for bigger money."
"Did you wear the cuffs?" I asked.
"Everyone wore the cuffs if you wanted to make money," he said.
"That's the business, Rock."
"Was Ali and Liston on the level?" I asked.
"C'mon, Rock," he said with a smile. " That one had the cuffs on Sonny tighter than a noose. It's all over now. God's got a better plan now for both of us."
Here's the conclusion of the Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard article.
About four days before Hatchetman was to be turned loose to the world on parole for the first time in twenty years, I witnessed a final moving scene.
One of my friends had sent me a copy of Bert Sugar's Boxing Illustrated Magazine. It had a copy of a story by Herbert Goldman, a boxing historian, called "The Hardest Punchers in Boxing History". As I glanced over the article I couldn't believe what I was reading.
That same day I also got a package from a prince of a man named Sal Rappa, another boxing historian from New York, who used to send us boxing stories, opinions, and pictures, generously giving of his time to lighten the burden of trapped men who loved boxing. Sal has written for Ring Magazine, is a member of the legendary Ring #8 out of New York, and is a beautiful man who I will never forget for caring enough about us as men to respond to our questions. In this instance he sent us upon request the complete boxing record of Curtis "the Hatchetman" Sheppard. The timing of these two pieces of mail seemed to testify that somebody up there was thinking about Hatchetman.
I ran to the prison gym where Hatchetman was surrounded by the young guys he was coaching in boxing. I called him over, and the other guys crowded around. I handed him his complete record and told him it was from Sal. This touched him so deeply that he was silent. Then I gave him the Goldman article to read. It had a list of the men he considered the fifty hardest hitters of all time. Oh there were the guys you expected. Wilde, Louis, Baer, Dempsey, Marciano, Liston, Saddler, and other champions. But number fifteen....Number fifteen was "Curtis 'Hatchetman' Sheppard". Hatchetman closed the book after seeing his name, and a tear came down the face of this big, dark man who had known so much pain.
When the day came for Hatchetman to leave, he was dressed in his freshly ironed prison khakis and as excited as a little kid. He was seventy-eight, but in shape like a person thirty years younger. With everybody wishing him good luck, I just stood there happy for him. Imagine, he was pushing eighty, and going to the world for the first time in twenty years, yet he was excited like a kid. He kept talking about a little "Fish Fry" place he was going to open up.
"What about money, Hatchetman?" someone asked.
"I don't worry bout money ," he said with a confident look. "I made money, money didn't make me. I'll be okay."
Finally he came to me and hugged me and kissed me.
"I found the love of a father for a son in you, Rock," he said.
"If you didn't become a champion in the ring, still you can be in shape like one. I expect you to keep in shape, keep training, and stay in that law library and fight your case. My prayers are that you will overturn your conviction and walk out in the health of a much younger man. You will then beat them like I did. I'll pray for you, and God is with you."
He had tears in his eyes and so did I.
He left and it felt like half the prison left with him, so empty did it seem. I was blessed to have known him. I kept my word to him and stayed in shape and in the law library fighting my case. Some few years later I overturned my conviction and walked out of Federal prison a free man in strong physical condition, through my own efforts in the law library and prison gym, and the prayers of a old heavyweight fighter.
Every once in a while I'll see Curtis' name mentioned with the black "Murderers Row" of fighters of that era that never got a chance at the title: Burley, Lytell, Marshall, Bivins, Williams, and others. But I know that the Hatchetman was a champ in the real life, and after all that's where it counts.
Reading that article about Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard brilliantly written by Aram Alkhazoff, just wow, what a story. Here's an article by Alkhazoff that goes more into Sheppard's fighting career and record.
The "Hatchetman" -
Meet Curtis Shephard
With Aram Alkhazoff
"Sheppard was from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Sheppard was a popular fighter during the 1930s and 1940s. His nickname was "The Hatchetman." As was common during his era, no records of his birthdate, or his death date (if he is dead), are kept.
Sheppard never received a world title shot. He was what in boxing is described as a "journeyman." However, his career had many ups and downs, which made him an interesting boxer for fans to watch. The February 2005 issue of Ring magazine, described him as a "gatekeeper," a fighter who stood in the way of other boxers seeking a title shot.
Sheppard began his career as a professional boxer on September 24, 1938, knocking out Larry White in the first round at Madison Square Garden. His first defeat was on November 1 of that year, against Danny Peal, by decision. Sheppard would win four fights in a row, including one against Herbie Katz, who had an immediate rematch, with Sheppard's winning streak stopped at four, when Katz beat him by decision.
In his next fight, November 18, 1939, Sheppard met the future world Heavyweight champion Jersey Joe Walcott. Sheppard lost that fight by an eight-round decision.
After another win and a loss, he met Tony Musto, another fighter of the era who is remembered for fighting many name boxers. Musto beat Sheppard by a ten-round decision, on July 1, 1940.
Sheppard won three and had one no contest in his next four bouts, including a win over Lee Q. Murray. His no-contest bout was against Elza Thompson, on April 17 of 1941, in Pittsburgh. But then he lost again, by decision to Willie Reddish, eleven days after his fight with Thompson.
In June of that year, he beat Q. Murray; then, on August 2, he lost by decision to future Hall of Famer Jimmy Bivins. Sheppard won five of his next seven fights, until on July 27, 1942, he lost to future world Light Heavyweight champion Joey Maxim, by a ten-round decision. He won two of his next four fights. The two fights he did not win during that span included another no-contest, this time against Hubert Hood, in six rounds.
Maxim was the world's #1 challenger in the Light Heavyweight division at the time, and he only needed one more win to earn a world title shot. Because of this, Maxim's management, thinking that Sheppard would be an easy opponent,
scheduled a match between Sheppard and Maxim.
Sheppard temporarily spoiled Maxim's plans, knocking him out in round one of their rematch, on March 10. This result, which would be the only knockout loss in Maxim's career, was a surprise to Ring Magazine writers and many boxing fans. Needing to restore his image in order to fight for the world Light Heavyweight title, Maxim signed for an immediate rematch with Sheppard, which would be the third fight between the two boxers. Maxim prevailed this time around, by a ten-round decision.
While Maxim went on and became world champion, Sheppard continued to fight anyone, anytime. Only twenty-six days later, he went into the ring with a fighter who was 12-0 before their fight: Sheppard defeated Clint Conway by a ten-round decision on April 26.
Sheppard won only two of his next five fights, before embarking on a seven-fight win streak. The first three wins were first-round knockouts, including one over Conway, on December 12, 1943. On January 24, 1944, he had one of his best performances when he beat future challenger for the world heavyweight championship Gus Dorazio by a ten-round unanimous decision.
Sheppard's win streak was stopped by Buddy Walker, who defeated Sheppard on February 6, by a ten-round decision.
Sheppard's next fourteen fights were almost all against the elite of the Light Heavyweight division: He beat Buddy Walker by a knockout in eight rounds in a rematch. Then he beat Tony Shucco by knockout in five, before losing to Q. Murray and to future world champion Melio Bettina, both by ten-round decisions. Then he beat Alf Brown, Dan Merritt, and Buddy Walker, all except Walker by decision. Walker was knocked out in nine rounds. Then Sheppard was knocked out in seven rounds by Perk Daniels on April 9, 1945. This was followed by a points loss at the hands of Jimmy Bivins. Sheppard then had consecutive wins over Nate Bolden, Johnny Allen, and Perkins in a rematch, before facing Jersey Joe Walcott again, and Archie Moore. He dropped decisions to Walcott and Moore, but Moore would later claim that, of all of his opponents, which included Bob Satterfield, Ezzard Charles, Rocky Marciano, Floyd Patterson, and Muhammad Ali, it was Sheppard who hit him the hardest.
Sheppard would fight twenty three more times, winning fourteen and losing nine. He lost another fight to Moore, but "the king of knockouts" could never knock Sheppard out, as he had to settle for a second decision victory over Sheppard. Sheppard also lost to Bivins, Q. Murray and to Rusty Payne, each of them twice by decision, during that last 23-fight stretch. His second fight with Payne, on January 19, 1949, was his last professional boxing fight.
Sheppard compiled a record of 49 wins and 33 losses, with 2 no-contests, and 32 knockouts."
It's a shame that there aren't more photos of Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, only a small handful exist, and it's a even bigger shame that there is zero fight film available for viewing, the guy could seriously crack and I would love to watch his power. I'll tell you what, I'd pay good money to see his knockout of Joey Maxim, Maxim was made of Iron and Sheppard iced him in one round. Tha Sportz Block on Facebook made some excellent points here:
Consider these facts of the career of former world champion Joey Maxim:
Bob Satterfield couldn't knock out Maxim
Lloyd Marshall couldn't knock out Maxim
Jersey Joe Walcott couldn't KO Maxim in 30 rounds
Jimmy Bivins couldn't KO Maxim in 40 rounds
Archie Moore (the all-time KO King) couldn't KO Maxim in 45 rounds
Ezzard Charles couldn't KO Maxim in 62 rounds
CURTIS "Hatchetman" SHEPPARD knocked out Maxim in a single round.
Chilling when you think about it, no?
Being the great champ he was, Maxim came back later and out-boxed Sheppard for the win. But Sheppard's achievement in stopping the rock-chinned Clevelander is simply stunning in light of all the great fighters who could do nothing with him along those lines.
Archie Moore, who fought every big banger of his time from Bob Satterfield to Rocky Marciano, called the punch of Sheppard the hardest sock he ever felt. Maxim did as well. Jersey Joe Walcott claimed that Curtis hit him even harder than Joe Louis, which at the time was the ultimate compliment.
Stills from the film of Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard (in dark trunks) winning the 1938 Inter-City Golden Gloves against Dan Merritt on March 28, 1938 at Madison Square Garden.
Credit: Steve Compton
Unquestionably, this is my favorite image of Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard and it's not necessary to explain why. The Hill District "Hatchetman", shown here with manager Eddie Kapphan (who also managed Harry BoBo), was way ahead of his time in terms of self-promotion, often showing up to weigh-ins with this axe draped over his shoulder.
Since we're on the subject of murderous punchers today, I'd certainly say this guy qualifies. Julian "The Hawk" Jackson. One of the hardest one-shot punchers in history, when Jackson hit an opponent flush, they weren't just knocked out, they were sent into another dimension.
Nice little sequence of Julian "The Hawk" Jackson.
Check this out, the Artemis II capsule being opened by the US Navy and NASA after returning from the Moon and splashing down in the Pacific ocean.
Great shots of the Artemis II capsule after splashdown with the recovery teams approaching.
Speaking of the ocean, it's absolutely fascinating what kind of creatures live in the abyss, the the deepest depths of the ocean, where sunlight cannot reach and it's literally pitch dark. These creatures create there own bioluminescent light and it's absolutely stunningly beautiful. Let's have a look, shall we?
Credit: New York Times
In 1932, William Beebe wedged his lanky body into a cramped submersible and became the first scientist to descend into the sea’s inky darkness. A tiny window let him gaze out. Later, he described an unfamiliar world of dancing lights, pale glows and beguiling shimmers.
“It seemed to explode,” he said of one luminous creature. Nothing, he added in his book, “Half Mile Down,” had prepared him for the spectacular displays. The colors included pale greens, blues, reds and especially blue-greens, which by nature can travel far in seawater.
Over the decades, biologists learned that the creatures of the deep sea use light much as animals on land use sound — to lure, intimidate, stun, mislead and find mates.
The living lights emanated from tiny fish with needlelike fangs, and gelatinous brutes with thousands of feeding tentacles. The sheer variety suggested that bioluminescence was fairly common, but no scientist came up with a measurement of the phenomenon.
Now, 85 years after Dr. Beebe’s pioneering dive, scientists have succeeded in gauging the actual extent of bioluminescence in the deep ocean.
During 240 research dives in the Pacific, they recorded every occurrence and kind of glowing sea creature — more than 500 types living down as deep as two miles. Then, the researchers merged the results into a comprehensive survey.
The result? Most of the creatures — a stunning 76 percent — made their own light, vastly outnumbering the ranks of the unlit, such as dolphins.