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Floyd Patterson wrote a book called "Victory Over Myself," that told about his extremely troubled childhood, and how he went on to be the 1952 Olympic Middleweight Champion, and then the first 2-time Heavyweight Champion of the World.
I knew Floyd, and so I'll say a few things about the man. He was an amateur in NYC when boxing was in one of its best eras. Won the 1951 NYC Open Class Golden Gloves; the '51 Eastern Golden Gloves; the '52 NYC and Eastern Gloves; and the '52 Inner-City Gloves. Then the Olympics.
There is an ESPN special on this champion, that has film from these amateur days. If you get an opportunity, watch it. He had an intensity that made him stand out.
In his pro career, he ended up 6' tall, and 182 lbs. He was managed, in his best years, by the great trainer, Cus D'Amato. Floyd had 8 KOs in his first 13 fights, which were mainly in the lightheavyweight division. He beat men like Yvon Durelle and Dick Wagner. Then Cus put him in with Joey Maxim, who beat him in 8 rounds. (I'll have to find some photos of Joey and my sons.)
After that, he went on a run, and started beating most of the second-tier contenders, looking at a match-up against Rocky Marciano. Rocky retired on April 27, 1956, and Floyd beat top contender Tommy "Hurricane" Jackson two months later. Then he beat the great lightheavyweight Archie Moore (who decked Rocky in the Rock's last match) and was awarded the title.
It was a strange time. The mob ruled boxing, and only Cus had control over the grand prize in sports. He used to sleep in his gym, with a cot pulled in front of the door, with a loaded shotgun and a huge German Shepherd. Howard Cosell wrote about this time. Cus didn't let Floyd fight the best big men, including Cleveland "Big Cat" Williams and Charles "Sonny" Liston. Instead, he put him in with weak opposition. One was a European playboy named Ingemar Johansson. Ingo had flattened Eddie Machen in a surprising 1 round upset. Cus figured Ingo would be an easy payday. He wasn't. Ingo beat Floyd, and then Patterson went through a personal hell. Came back and devastated Ingo. (ESPN will play the 2nd fight soon. Watch Ingo's foot shake on the canvas, as if he's dead.)
Cus split from Floyd when he signed to fight Liston. My friend Rubin was one of Liston's sparring partners then. He quit when his ears both bled after one sparring session. Rubin told me he thought at that time that Sonny might kill Floyd. President Kennedy had Floyd to the White House, and told him he shouldn't fight Liston. JFK though Liston was a bad role model for American youth. He destroyed him in one round, and did it again in '63.
Floyd fought young Muhammad Alion 11-22-65. It was ugly. Ali was feeling the hatred of white America. Rough time. Malcolm had been murdered after the split from Elijah. I think that the confusion, anger, and frustration was taken out on Floyd.
Floyd went on, and fought a lot of good fighters like Oscar Bonavena, George Chuvalo, Jerry Quarry,and even lost a close 15 round decision to Jimmy Ellis for the WBA title in 9-14-68.
When he was broke, Ali fought him in NYC on 9-29-72.
He went on to be NYS's boxing commissioner. One night in Owego, he came up behind me in the locker room, as I was wrapping my fighter's hands. I had my hair down, and he thought a woman was in the locker room! When I turned around, we had a laugh. From then on, whenever we saw each other, we had a laugh about that.
The last time I saw him was in Binghamton's Broome County Arena. Larry Holmes was beginning one of his come-backs, and put on a dismal show in an exhibition with someone who the real Larry wouldn't have used as a sparring partner. After it was over, I saw Floyd walking towards me with that wonderful, boyish grin he had. We had a laugh about old fighters who weren't able to grow old gracefully that night.
Floyd was a class guy. He marched with Martin in the south. When the KKK-types in blue uniforms would beat black people for "not knowing their place," Floyd would go up the the water fountains, and drink out of both the "white only" and "colored" fountains. Then he'd say, "Huh, taste just the same to me." No one tried to knock him around.
Rest in peace, Champ.
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