The Spice O' Life

[professordp]

A big man even by today's standards, Al Hoosman stood at 6'5" and weighed in between 205 to 210 lbs. began fighting on boxing cards at sixteen in his hometown of Waterloo, Iowa.

Dropping out of high school in the tenth grade, Al had a handful of bouts in Los Angeles and Seattle during the early 1940s after capturing both the Pacific Coast and Los Angles Golden Gloves titles in 1939.

Undefeated in the ring, he entered the United States Army in 1942 and was stationed in Australia where he had eight more fights and extended his winning streak.

Hoosman musterd out of the service in 1945 and fighting in the New York area, started to be noticed. He split two decisions with Lee Savold and later decisioned Buddy Walker. He was stopped Walker in their 1947 return bout.

After more than a year of inactivity, Big Al moved back to the West Coast in mid-1949 and became a fan favorite, entertaining the corwd by singing between rounds.

The relocation proved to be short-lived. For one reason or another, Hoosman moved on to Germany where he would ultimately finish out his career and his life.

Hoosman met the top German fighters of the period and pretty much held his own. He drew with Joe Weidin, Hugo Salfeld, and Werner Weigland (twice).

He was defeated (once via decision and then TKO'd) twice by Wilson Kohlbrecher, decisioned by Heinz Neuhaus, and knocked out in eight by Karel Sys.

His most notable fights were with Tommy Farr who was on the comeback trail. The two first met in 1951 with Hoosman picking up a ten round decison. In the return match a year later, Farr recieved the judges' nod.

During this period, Big Al was entering his thirties, and his ring skills were starting to erode. Following his loss to Neuhaus in mid-1953, he hung up his gloves but remained in Germany to pursue a higher cause.

One of the negative aspects of World War Two's aftermath were the fatherless children in Germany who were "racially-mixed". These children were viewed as pariahs and often ill-treated.

Deeply disturbed by the situation, Hoosman formed "CAUSE" to provided assitance for these children. He helped more than 5,000 children through adoptions and foster care during this difficult period. Big Al indeed had a big heart.

Former First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, publicly recognized his efforts and encouraged Americans to contribute to Hoosman's organization. During the 1950s "CAUSE" recieved considerable media coverage on both sides of the Atlantic, including an extensive article in Time.

Hoosman also took up acting, appearing in German films and television programs. His most notable appearance was a part in the 1961 film, Town Without Pity, which starred Kirk Douglas.

Big Al passed away in 1968 at the age of forty-eight.

The photo below was initially posted by Tost.

[professordp]

It's nice to go out a winner...even better if you're a champion! Such can be said of fifteen year ring vet Jesse Crown who fought in the heavyweight ranks from the late 1960s until the early 1980s.

In his final fight on March 21, 1983, Jesse successfully defended his Maine State Heavyweight title belt by winning a 12 round unanimous decision over Andy Russell.

Now there were presitigious state titles back in the day. If, for example, you wore the state crown in California or Texas, you had to be a pretty decent fighter given the level of competition in those states.

And then there were states like Maine. Prior to his fight with Russell, Crown's last title defense was held in a high school gym in Lubec, Maine.

Speaking of Russell, he was the Bahamas heavyweight champ and a native of Grand Bahama Island. How did that qualify him to challenge Crown for the Maine title belt? Just as a point of interest, Russell never won a professional match; he had a career record of 0-15. Doesn't say much about the Bahamas heavyweight championship belt, does it.

All of this is part of the overall theme of Jesse Crown's career...things were not as good as they appeared. On the surface, Jesse's record of 31 wins (19 by knockout) against 23 defeats (17 by KO) and one draw isn't all that bad...that is until you do a little digging.

Let's start with Jesse's power and his nineteen knockouts. Only two of his "victims" had more than twelve fights and just one (Eddie Casey) finished his career with a winning record. Six of the nineteen only had one professional fight; their knockout loss to Crown.

To sum it up and average it out, the typical guy who was stopped by Jesse has a record of 1-4 (kayoed 3 times). The tweve opponents he beat by decision weren't much better. And I should mention that almost all of these fights (with the exception of the Maine "championship bouts) were undercard affairs of four, six, or eight rounds.

Looking at the other side of the ledger, when Jesse lost he was usually counted out. You know some of the guys that flattened him...Tex Cobb, John Dino Denis, Kevin Isaac, Ron Stander, and Chuck Wepner. They were, for the most part, in the early stages of their careers, and Jesse was seen as an easy night.

Still there were others who sent Crown home early who weren't exactly household names. John LoFranco, Mark Hans, Mighty Joe Young, Paul Kasper, and Bob Mashburn.

The bottom line on Jesse. He fought most of his fights in his home state of Maine with frequent trips to Massachusetts. When he moved outside of these parochial venues, it was usually to be knocked out by some rising star.

Not a partiuclarly good fighter, but he did retire as a champion!

[professordp]

Fighting exclusively out of Idaho and the Pacific Northwest from 1953 to 1957, heavyweight Harley Breshears compiled a record of 45 wins (41 by knockout) against 6 defeats (4 via kayo) with 2 draws.

This gave Harley a KO% of 75.93 and earning 91.1% of his wins by early endings.

More importantly, in the TBCB default pool Breshears has an HP rating of 11 which puts him on a par with Sonny Liston and a notch above Joe Louis, Max Baer, Joe Frazier, and Cleveland Williams.

As the TBCB palyer's manual tells us, the HP rating is established in relationship to the quality of opponents a fighter has knocked out.

Let me examine the quality of Harley's knockout victims to see if he belongs in the Pantheon of Power Punchers.

One mark of a knockout artist is the ability to take his opponent out early in a fight. Breshears scored 15 knockouts in the first or second rounds, that's better than a third (36.5%) of his kayos.

These knockouts, however, were against a very weak bunch. Not one of these victims had a winning record. Moreover, if you average out the career records to get the typical opponent it reads: 1 win and 4 losses (3 by way of KO). Not particularly impressive!

Looking at all 41 of Harley's kayo wins, you see a similar pattern. Only four of the guys he knocked out had a winning career record, and nearly two-thirds had a career of 12 or fewer professional bouts. Six had only one professional fight...their kayo loss to Breshears.

To give a point to ponder, Breshears knocked out Johnny Williams three times in the course of twelve days. Williams' career record was 0-7 with all the losses coming by knockout.

It' been noted that President Obama frequently uses the term "punches above his weight class." Let's apply this to Breshears. Usually fighting between 185 to 190 lbs., Harley was a standard size for heavyweights during the 1950s.

Most of the guys he fought were around the same weight or lighter. When he did find himself outweighed the results were mixed. If the opponent had a weight advantage and were ring savvy, Breshears wasn't a total monster.

A prime example of this would be Jack Nelson, a mediocre heavweight from the first half of the 1950s. Nelson faced Howard King, Pat McMurtry, Earl Walls, and Harry Matthews and was knocked out in the first round of each fight. Nelson met Breshears twice, outweighing Harley both times.

In their first encounter, he earned a ten round decision over Breshears; in their return match he knocked Harley out in the seventh.

Taking all of the above into consideration, I reduced Breshears' HP rating from 11 to 5. Using Chris' sub-zero templates, Harley performed true to life, scoring knockouts against those fighters ranging from -18 to -4, which is reflective, I believe, of the opponents who suffered those 41 kayos at Harley's hands.

In contrast to the default rating of 11 HP, Breshears was unable to put away Nelson, Harry Matthews, or Roque Maravilla with a 5 HP. He lost those fights in my testing, just as he did in real life.

In my view giving Breshears an 11 HP is overkill, to say the very least. Using this inflated rating, my sims had him knocking out fighters far above his "pay grade".

I also adjusted Harley's "chin" ratings. To me the default ratings didn't reflect his attraction to the canvas. Jackie Torme, in only his second pro fight, decked Breshears six times on his way to a seventh round KO win. Harry Matthews had him down twice and going for a third trip to the mat when ref Joey August halted the slaughter in the fourth frame. Cordell Jones knocked him out in the first, and the lowly Joey Aguilar had Harley on the deck before being stopped by Breshears in the sixth.

The Ring was not overly impressed with Harley's knockouts at the time. None of his fights recieved detailed coverage; they were mentioned in a line or two by the local stringer who reported on fights in the Pacific Northwest region.

Breshears earned a few paragraphs in the "Prospects" section of the August 1954 issue, and the March 1955 edition did make note of his KO%.
Of course, Marciano was wearing the heavyweight crown at the time so there was no need to promote a "White Hope."

Following his loss to Roque Maravilla via a ten round decision in April 1957, Breshears immediately announced his retirement. He was only twenty-five at the time, an age when boxers are just approaching their peak.

But give Harley credit! In his last six months of boxing, his record was 2-2-1, and he wisely recognized that his abilities would take him no further.

[IDES]

Hey Prof- Thanks for the rating. Looks like Harley was revised to a 7 HP back in 2009 from the original 11 in 2007. I'm inclined to go along with your HP of 5 . Keep these guys coming please.

Tom

[professordp]

Tom,

I did come across that 2009 rating in Fighterlist, but it didn't seem to make it into the default pool.

I had recently downloaded all the fighters from the pool and updated. What I got was the rating with the 11 HP.

Regardless, I think even a 7 HP was too generous.

According to The Ring annual ratings, Breshears was at his best ranked as a fourth tier heavyweight during the mid-50s. In 1957, his final year fighting, he was dropped down a notch to the lowest level.

More importantly, virtually none of the guys he kayoed were even ranked in the five levels in The Ring February annual rankings from 1953-1957.

[professordp]

Jack Tillman was a ranked welterweight during the earlier part of the 1970s who never quite made it into the top five of his division.

A native of Mobile, Alabama, Tillman's two older brothers were local boxing promoters and got Jack started on his way in 1967.

For the first five years of his career, Tillman fought exclusively in Mobile and New Orleans where his brothers seemed to have considerable pull in the boxing establishment.

That's not to say that Tillman strictly fought a bunch of stiffs. During this "formative" period, Jack split decisions with Percy Pugh and scored a unanimous nod over Manual Gonzalez.

In early 1973 he moved up both qualitatively and geographically when he scored a twelve round unanimous decision over Billy Backus in Baltimore to gain the WBA's North American Welterweight belt.

The win over Backus gained Tillman national attention and moved him up in the ratings. A few months later, he suffered a setback by dropping a ten rounder to Angel Espada.

In the fall of that year, he split two matches with Vernon Mason. After losing the first meeting via a ten round decision, Tillman stopped Mason in seven in their rematch.

The TKO win over Mason put him in London's Royal Albert Hall where he faced the powerful John H. Stracy on March 26, 1974. Stracy was just too powerful and pounded away at Tillman until the referee stopped it in the fourth stanza. Tillman hung up his gloves, recognizing that his talents would take him no further.

Jack had boxing skills to be sure, but he lacked a punch most of his wins via stoppages were against weaker opponents. Antother problems was that he wasn't particularly aggressive in the ring and tended to ride his "bicycle" too often.

After leaving the ring, he got involved in Mobile politics and was ultimately elected sheriff, serving from 1994 to 2006. Here he seems have had some problems.

A cross between Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane of The Dukes of Hazzard and Mr. Bumble of Oliver Twist fame, Tillman was accused of pocketing money for prisoners' meals.

Ultimately, there was a plea bargain and Jack left politics to pursue his next career as an author and as Mobile's resident poet.

[professordp]

After a six month hiatus from this thread (working on ratings for the Headed Goal soccer PC game during the period), I thought I'd get back to work by enhancing the "official" Tom Bethea rating (he's rated as a light heavy) to focus on his middleweight years (1969-1971).

Indeed, Bethea is best known for his TKO win over then middleweight champ Nino Benvenuti in a 1970 non-title bout. He also fought some of the top fighters of the 160 pund division, usually losing, but going the distance with Hall of Famers Luis Rodriguez and Carlos Monzon.

Although I didn't attempt to reinvent the wheel and kept much of what was in the "official" LH rating, I did make a few significant changes which merit explanation.

One major departure from what exists in the data pool concerns Bethea's cut rating. Perhaps "The Bomb's" greatest weakness was his tendency to cut. It was a direct cause of his losses to Bennie Briscoe and Carlos Marks.

Moreover, it was a factor in his loss to Benvenuti in their second fight. From my research, I found that scar tissue around Bethea's eyes was a major factor in limiting his career, and cuts were frequent occurances in his fights...even those he won.

In retrospect, he was quite fortunate to have Gil Clancy in his corner for most of his bouts.

Thus I downgraded his cut factor from "2" to "4".

To counterbalance this, I moved his defense from a "3" up to a "2". In preparing this rating, I watched some of Bethea's fights. Although not what you'd call a defensive specialist, he had an up-close, crowding style which made it difficult to hit him with a clean shot.

Finally, I did some tweaking around the "edges" of the "official" rating. Standing at 5'8", Bethea's weight started to fluctuate as he entered his late twenties. When he fought Mark Rowe for the second time, Bethea weighed in at 160. Three months later, when he fought Johnny Frankham, he came in at 171. I therefore changed his conditioning to "4"...weight problems.

With Gil Clancy as his trainer, I raised his Intellect from "6" to "8".

I "grafted"/"piggy-backed" this rating with the "official" rating. Thus, you can add this to your file, and it won't replace the LH rating from the data pool.

I did, however, make a few amendments. I added Clancy as his trainer, entered his height, and corrected his birth year (BoxRec lists it as 1943...not 1947).

[professordp]

Seeking a respite from the heat during this past, hot Labor Day weekend, I retreated to our local community swimming pool where I met up with two old friends, Irish Pat Murphy and Jerry Acquaviva. Irish Pat was a slugging welterweight who enjoyed a top ten ranking when he was active in the late 1960s/1970s.


Jerry was a close friend of the late Frankie DePaula who nearly knocked the world light heavyweight crown off Bob Foster's head at Madison Square Garden in 1969. He was also a primary contributor to Ade Makinde's excellent biography of DePaula, Jersey Boy: The Life and Mob Slaying of Frankie DePaula.

After catching up with perfunctory discourse related to the weather, politics, family, and our respective septuagenarian health matters, the talk predictably turned to boxing. We live in a Hudson County faubourg within the orbit of the Newark/Jersey City metropolitan area, a region which produced more than its fair share of boxers: Jimmy Braddock, Tony Galento, Frankie Burns, Fireman Jim Flynn, Gus Lesnevich, and Joe Jeanette to name a few. Thus boxing has rich, deep roots in our soil.


Nevertheless, we didn't dwell on the fighters named above but rather focused upon the game as it played out during the late 1960s when our area was particularly verdant with talented prospects. Besides DePaula and Irish Pat there were the skilled Viruet brothers (Adolpho and Edwin...transplants from the South Bronx) both of whom gave Roberto Duran fits, the infamous "Bayonne Bleeder: Chuck Wepner, along with such "sure shots" like Otha Tyson who never quite made the grade.


The guy who brought all this together was our fellow townsman, Al Certo. If you had a dictionary entry for "boxing impresario", Al's likeness would undoubtedly appear next to the definition. A talented lightweight, Al won the Golden Gloves and was on his way to a promising professional career when a serious hand injury forced him to hang up his mitts in 1954.


Al's talents rested beyond the squared circle. He was also a skilled tailor, crafting suits for fellow Hobokenite Frank Sinatra, countless celebrities, and most major Hudson County politicians. Yet, Al never lost his love for boxing...it's in his blood! He managed Buddy McGirt to a world title, tried to push Andrew Golota to continue against Tyson, He also trained the Viruet brothers and Mustapha Hamsho.


But the focus here.isn't upon the "big names". It's what Al did to promote local talent.In1967 he took over a long dormant movie theater and relaunched it as the Secaucus Arena. In doing so, he created a much need boxing venue to showcase area talent.


By 1969, the local boxing house was a victim of its own success. Seating only about 400 souls, it just couldn't handle the volume of boxing enthusiasts with cards that featured Wepner, the Viruets, DePaula, and Irish Pat. Subsequently, he was forced to move matters up the hill to the Embassy in neighboring North Bergen which had a far greater seating capacity.


Recollecting all this with Jerry and Irish Pat, I was inspired to "dust off" my TBCB and rate those who passed through the Secaucus Arena. Wepner, DePaula, and the Viruets are already "immortalized" in the game. And in this thread I've rated Clayton "Showboat" Thomas who was stopped by the Bayonne Bleeder at the Arena with Harold Valen as the ref in the third frame back in 1968.


Concerning Al. At eighty-seven, he's had some health issues, and I don't see him as often these days. But when I do, I get the impression the fire for boxing still burns deeply in his heart.

[professordp]

A most recent picture of Al in his tailor shop.

[professordp]

A crowd pleaser is perhaps the most apt assessment of Irish Pat Murphy's ring career. Combing boxing skills with a slugger's predilections, Irish Pat knew only one directions...moving forward with both fists pounding away.


Testimony to Pat's appeal is the fact that in just his second professional bout he was on the undercard at Shea Stadium where Carlos Ortiz successfully defended his lightweight title against Ismael Laguna in 1967. One month later, he was again under carded at Shea when Emile Griffith reclaimed the world middleweight crown from Nino Benvenuti.


Pat started boxing at age fourteen, compiled an impressive amateur record of 20-5 before turning pro while still in his senior year at West New York's Memorial High School. Maturing and growing into a welterweight, he reeled off a record of 25-0, often headlining the cards at Al Certo's Secaucus Arena.


Only twenty-one, he lost a tough ten round decision to the talented Donato Paduano in Madison Square Garden, followed by two successive decisional losses to the crafty Papo Villa.


As is the case with the typical boxer, Pat needed a "day job" to augment his ring earnings. Long hours as a construction worker took him away from his regular training at the gym, and his career subsequently suffered as a result.


He was also fighting less frequently. Over the two year span from 1970 through 1971, Pat had just six fights, compiling a mediocre record of 2-3-1. In early 1972, he was stopped for the first time in his career against Billy Backus. The match was halted in the seventh on cuts, and Pat swears to this day that the gash was the result of an intentional head butt.


Following a tune-up victory, Murphy substantially elevated the quality of his opponents. Although he fought impressively, he just couldn't seem to crack the upper tier of his division. In the ensuing two years, he fought eight times without a victory. The best he could do was earn a draw against Edwin Malave, who had outpointed Murphy two months prior.


It should be noted that he was now fighting the likes of Clyde Gray, John H. Stracy, Tony Petronelli, Danny McAloon, and Buddy Boggs, experienced boxers all with their own impressive divisional credentials.
Moreover, inconsistent training also began to take its toll. Increasingly, Pat came into to the ring above his natural weight.


Coupled with this winless streak, Pat also experienced two personal tragedies during this period. Within a six month span, his brother Neill, and his mother were killed in separate automobile accidents. As a result, Pat become the primary caretaker for his four younger siblings (Murphy's father has died suddenly several years earlier). Finally, he became engaged to his longtime sweetheart, Dennis Clark (they're still married).


Given his added responsibilities and career that was, at best, stuck in neutral, Pat retired in 1974. He attempted a comeback nearly four years later, but after a four round kayo loss to Rocky Mattioli in 1979, Murphy hung up the mitts for good.


These days, as a senior arborist for the Hudson County Parks Department, Irish Pat plants trees rather than opponents. He is in good health following bypass surgery a few years back, appears very content with his life, and is looking forward to his ensuing retirement.

[professordp]

Like Irish Pat Murphy, Otha Tyson (no relation to Mike!) was another of Al Certo's protégés who launched his career at the Secaucus Plaza Arena. Sadly, Otha didn't enjoy the same upward trajectory that was experienced by Irish Pat.


Originally from Cochran, Georgia, Tyson's family moved North and settled in Newark, New Jersey. Subsequently, the Tyson's relocated to nearby Paterson (home of the TBCB legend, Mel Turnbow).


As a young teen, Otha demonstrated an inclination for the ring and began working out at Paul Cabalero's gym which was the training haunt of Rubin "Hurricane" Carter. Young Tyson demonstrated considerable potential, and he was brought to the attention of Certo who took him under his wing.


Timing, so it is often said, is everything. Al was just opening the Secaucus Plaza Arena, and the promising young Otha was a perfect four round opener for Certo's boxing cards.


Unfortunately, Tyson failed to deliver. Between January 1968 and June 1969, Otha, a green nineteen year old, fought twelve of his first thirteen pro bouts at the Plaza Arena. In his debut, Tyson outpointed the less-than heralded Gavino Soto.


From there, Otha fought five consecutive draws. Three of those draws were against Danny Figueroa, a featherweight, who was a regular at the Plaza Arena. I actually attended one of those contests (I honestly cannot recall which one) and thought Tyson got the benefit of the doubt from the judges.


Overall, Otha's performance at the Plaza Arena was somewhat of a bust, particularly when you compare it to that of Murphy who took off like a rocket during the same period. His record at the Arena was 4-3-5. In his final bout at the venue, he lost to the great Edwin Viruet in Edwin's second pro match (I was there to see that one too!).


Let me digress a moment from the record book. Otha was a lean guy who had ring smarts. Long limbed and lanky, he could both box and slug, given the dictates of a particular match.


His biggest problem was getting to the gym on a regular basis. The cold fact of life is that you don't make a living as a young, prelim fighter...even back in the late 1960s. You've ultimately need to find an additional source of income to pay the rent and put food on the table.


An overview of Tyson's career suggests that he had a somewhat severe weight problem. His tally on the scales vacillated between 135 to 150. Although the hard stats show that Otha won nearly 40% of his matches via KO, he was far from a puncher.Those who failed to finish against Tyson could be best classified as the "barely breathing".


In the end, Otha is what I call a "tweener". His best weight was around 137...too heavy for a lightweight, yet too light for a bona fide welter. He was one of those unfortunate souls back in the late 60s/early 70s who fell into that Netherworld known as the junior welter/super light division.


And that's how I rated him. Typically when I sim matches, I rarely use the weight differential on the TBCB prematch screen. Nevertheless, with Otha, I strongly suggest you do so.


After Certo closed up the Plaza Arena, Tyson became somewhat of an itinerant tune up/trial horse boxer, travelling to the Felt Forum, New England, Canada, Mexico, the UK, and Italy.


With lightweights who needed to get in shape, Otha could go the full ten with the likes of Everaldo Costa Azevado, Antonio Puddu, or Roger Zami in a losing effort. But throw him into the lion's den of welters as red meat against the likes of Clyde Gray or John H. Stracy, and poor Otha would get his clock cleaned.


Otha Tyson hung up his mitts in 1974 at the age of twenty-five and receded into the dark depths of Paterson, New Jersey. He compiled a pro record of 18 wins, 15 losses, and 7 draws.


He was a talented and entertaining boxer. Here's the only thing that gives you a sense of his post-boxing life...a YouTube video.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Keo0lW-YxGg

[professordp]

I hope you enjoy Otha in your universe!

[professordp]

Al Certo's Secaucus Plaza Arena was one of those elements of boxing lore which has long vanished, much to the sport's detriment.


Thus far, I've focused upon it as a "launching pad" for pugilistic prospects like Edwin Viruet, Irish Pat Murphy, and Otha Tyson. Additionally, it provided a venue for established boxers like Chuck Wepner and Frankie DePaula to work out the "kinks" in a tune up before they moved on to important bouts in prominent venues.


Yet the Arena served a third, and critical, purpose. It afforded a respite for boxers who essentially faced a critical career crossroads. Fighters who had launched years earlier and wished to continue in the sport found the Arena a welcome haven within which one could regroup, reassess, and resume a career.


Such was the case with the enigmatic welterweight Marcel Bizien, who enjoyed somewhat of a cult following. If you mentioned boxing in the Jersey City metro area back in the late 1960s, you most likely talked about DePaula, Wepner, and Bizien...and not necessarily in that order!


In contrast to the typical fare that Certo offered on his Arena cards, Bizien was older and substantially more experienced. When he had his first match on one of Al's cards, Marcel was thirty years old and a twelve year pro ring vet with forty-three bouts under his belt.


Unlike homegrown heroes like DePaula and Wepner, Bizien was born in New York City, of French Canadian stock. In his early teens, he was tutored by the Bufano brothers.


Marcel's pro career was launched in 1956, and he became a regular at New York's St. Nicolas Arena, a boxing Mecca of days past. Subsequently he moved across the Hudson River to Jersey City where he became a local legend and a fan favorite, fighting in places like Union City's State Garden (where he pounded out a decision over the fading Ike Chestnut).


At Paterson's Plaza Garden (holding the young Billy Backus to a draw), and the Sussex Avenue Arena in Newark, not to mention Jersey City's High School Field.He lost to highly ranked Stefan Redl, getting off the canvas twice to finish the contest. He also dropped a ten rounder to the crafty Johnny Bizzarro a Paterson's Ballroom.


Honing his skills in Northern New Jersey, Marcel reclaimed his French Canadian heritage, travelling north where he split two ten round decisions with Joey Durelle.


By August of 1967, Bizien has demonstrated that he was a fighter of some worth. He earned a spot on the Carlos Ortiz-Ismael Laguna card held at Shea Stadium. His opponent was Willie Munoz, Ortiz's cousin, in a ten-rounder.


Munoz caught Marcel cold. Willie dumped Bizien three times in the first stanza to earn a TKO under New York's boxing rules. It was the only time that Marcel was stopped in fifty-one professional matches.


At this point, Bizien moved on to the Plaza Arena and came under the tutelage of Al Certo. He won all of his six matches. When Al closed up the Arena in 1969, Bizien dropped a hard fought match to Dick DiVeronica at the Jersey City Armory. Two years later, he sang his "swan song" with an eight round decision over Juan Ramos.


I know the focus of many TBCB fans is upon the "greats", Nevertheless, it was a guy like Marcel Bizien who kept the sport entertaining and alive.


I had the opportunity to see him box at the Arena a few times...that was nearly fifty years ago! Still, vividly, I remember that he was ring smart, though light-hitting. Marcel was the kind of Viruet-style, classy boxer who knew every inch of the ring and how to take the best advantage of it.


Looking back, I suppose, was the claim that one of my peers could make, "Wow! I was in Eggers Deli, and Marcel Bizien was right ahead of me, ordering a sandwich!"

[professordp]

Marcel was a great under carder...pure eight-rounder. Put him on one of your late 60s cards, and he won't disappoint!

[swampdragon]

Keep the fighters and stories coming. I'm enjoying them.

[professordp]

Adolpho and Edwin Viruet weren’t Al Certo’s s only brother act. He also exercised a guiding hand over the Mamarelli brothers…Tony and Mike. Unlike the Viruets, the Mamarelli’s came to Al’s attention as fullyformed fighters.
By the time they reached the Secaucus Plaza Arena, Tony and Mike had been boxing for nearly five years. Moreover, they obviously created a certain degree of sizzle before hooking up with Al in 1968.
The December 1964 issue of Boxing Illustrated devoted a six page spread (“Whiz Kids” by Alan Clevens) to the Mamarellis who were extremely popular in the Miami boxing scene.
Products of the tough streets of Pittsburgh, Tony and Mikeeach carved out impressive amateur reputations while only in their midteens.Yet, Pittsburgh offered limited horizons within which to launch a boxingcareer.
The post-World War Two burgeoning population of Florida created a desire for entertainment…and that obviously included boxing. While Chris Dundee was the most notable of promoters, there were many others who sought to satiate the demand for skilled sluggers.
Tony, two years Mike’s elder, launched his pro career in May1963 at Little River Auditorium in Miami. Six months later, Mike joined him,and the Mamarelli brothers were soon off and running.
Now we have this popular image, through The Harder They Fall and Requiem for a Heavyweight, of the exploitive boxing manager/promoter. Yet here’s where reality clashes with popular imagery
Taking the Mamarellis under his wing, their manager, Guy Mosely, fronted the boys the seed money to buy into a BP service station franchise in Hialeah. Both graduates of Pittsburgh’s vocational high school.Tony and Mike were well-suited for this enterprise.
In the mid-sixties, they both took a hiatus from boxing to get their business up and running. Subsequently once it was off the ground,they resettled the family up in Pittsburgh to Hialeah, letting their very capable father to run the service station.
Nevertheless, boxing was in the boys’ blood, and in early1968 they were lured North by Certo to become mainstays on his Plaza Arena cards for the next six months At the end of the year, the brothers moved on to tap into the growing Providence, Rhode Island boxing scene.
Mike ended his career in early 1969 in Madison Square Garden fighting a draw with Tony Cruz as part of the Bob Foster/Frankie DePaula lightheavy title card. Meanwhile Tony fought once in Providence in mid-1968 and seemingly retired, only to return three years later to fight one last time.

I had the opportunity to see both men fight a few times during their brief sojourn at the Plaza Arena. Tony was more polished than his younger sibling. He could punch but also had decent ring skills. Mike on the other hand was a straight ahead slugger.
Both could take a punch. Although not much of a defensive fighter, Mike was never stopped in his twenty-four bout career while Tony only failed to finish once in thirty-eight pro contests.
Never really main eventers, the Mamrellis were generally carded in the six- to eight round preliminary slot. They won the overwhelming majority of their bouts, albeit against opponents of limited abilities.
Nevertheless, they were indeed entertaining. When Al had a Mamarelli on one of his cards, you knew that there would be plenty of action.


.

[professordp]

Here's the photo and rating

[professordp]

Here's his photo and rating

[professordp]

I suppose that this sub thread is of little consequence, perhaps even rather self-indulgent on my part. Nevertheless, small boxing venues like the Secaucus Plaza Arena were an important component of the sport. Sadly, they appear to be going the way ofthe buffalo, much to boxing’s detriment.
Our community was much different back then than it is today. Before Al Certo opened thePlaza Arena in 1967, we were nothing more than a sleepy backwater, living inthe shadow of the Empire State Building. There was no high school, movie house,or a viable central business district.
The Arena was indeed a much-needed shot of adrenaline for our town. For the two yearsthat it was operational, the Plaza Arena gave us an identity. We were a boxing hot spot!
Boxers seemed to become part of the community’s fabric. Pat Murphy and the Mamarelli brothers took up residence. You’d see Edwin Viruet or Otha Tyson grabbing a bite at one of our two local diners. Marcel Bizien was often seen waiting for a bus to take him back to Jersey City. Frank DePaula was frequently sighted as well; his girlfriend (Frank’s biographer would say his Delilah) lived in ourtown.
Al’s influence didn’t end with professional boxing at the Arena. He resurrected the Police Athletic League boxing program, and the Plaza Arena hosted numerous youth boxing cards. Totally unrelated to the sport, when there wasn’t any boxing action, the Arena served as a venue for teen dances where aspiring young rock musicians had the opportunity to display their varied talents.
Of course all of this was nearly fifty years ago, and I suspect that few of our residents under the age of sixty have much of a recollection, if any, of the Plaza Arena and the boxing culture that was part of our town for that brief period of time.
And time moves on! As noted in the introduction, Al became a recognized boxing trainer,manager, and promoter. Today our town is perennially ranked in the top fifteen or twenty most desirable place to live in New Jersey…not bad considering that there are 565 other communities in the Garden State. Most fitting, I’d add, the Plaza Arena was purchased by the town and now serves as a multi-purpose teen center.
Fifty years ago, there were countless places like the Secaucus Plaza Arena throughout the nation. These days, they’re pretty much folklore. Those who bemoan the general decline of the sport in the United States should consider the following.
What would baseball be without the minor leagues? Or basketball and football without high school and college programs? Places like the Secaucus Plaza Arena served a similar purpose.

[professordp]

During the recent holiday weekend, I strolled through our local woods with my dog, Sweet Caroline. She's a Borador (a mix of Lab and Border Collie) and therefore, is by nature quite curious.


Although she enjoyed the fallen leaves, the sprinting squirrels, and the varied birds in flight, it seems that the supine logs were of the most interest to her.


Not wishing to spoil the intrinsic beauty of nature or its ambience, I judiciously steered her away from the fallen forest appenditures. What exists under a log is an inherent ugliness manifested by decay and brutality.


And so it goes with the sport of boxing. We marvel at the beauty of ring movement, applaud the snapping precision of a left jab and are awe struck by the Wagnerian crash of a right cross.


Yet like the forest primeval, there's a certain ugliness that lives under the logs of boxing.


I sometimes wonder how many forum members actually donned a pair of boxing gloves, popped in a mouthpiece, climbed through the ropes, and fought another person for a few rounds.


Nearly sixty years ago, as a preteen in a PAL boxing program, I gave it a whirl. I soon learned it wasn't for me.. Personally, I didn't enjoy being hit along with the attendant consequences of a bloody nose, a split lip, or a swollen orb. Moreover, I suppose I also lacked "killer instinct" insofar as it gave me no pleasure to inflict physical pain upon a fellow human being.


Still, for many years thereafter, I continued to follow boxing. I suppose, like most sports fans, I was living vicariously through the glory, pain, and suffering of others.


Boxing is, at its core, a violent sport...some would say barbaric. It takes a certain personality styling to be willing to beat another human being into submission. Moreover, there are dire consequences which last throughout life, long after a fighter hangs up his mitts.


Occasionally, in this thread, I've attempted to highlight some of the sport's ugliness...for the most part, in rather subtle statements. Ring deaths, violent endings, and permanent impairment all appear to be part of the boxing culture. Of course, by today's standards, one could strongly argue that boxing s relatively tame when compared to the UFC...or for that matter the NFL and the NHL.


My objective with this sub thread is to offer up a few boxers who suffered the consequences of the sport's culture. It certainly isn't my intent to make this a condemnation of professional boxing, Still, I do believe that it's imperative to lift up the sport's log and take a long look at what you find underneath.


(Below is the shelter image of our Sweet Caroline)