Boxing Lessons

LOUIS L’AMOUR WRITES ABOUT BOXING - a subject featured throughout his over one hundred novels. If the stories are not about fighters in a ring, they are about cowboys out West duking it out in saloons. His narratives are action-packed, making you feel part of the brutal contests.

Growing up in Detroit, my dad (above photo) loved boxing and followed Joe Louis's career. His nickname eventually became The Brown Bomber. Louis reigned as the world heavyweight champion in the 1930s and 40s, rising through the Golden Gloves competition that filled fight clubs in our large cities. He was a beloved legend, embraced with respect and adulation by his hometown of Detroit and the rest of the world. The highlight of his career was his second bout in 1938 in New York against Germany’s Max Schmeling, a Nazi sympathizer. It ended in a Louis TKO in the first round after 2 minutes and 3 seconds.

This fight has been widely regarded as one of the most historic sports events of all time, as reported in Wikipedia.

With my dad’s athletic background and his interest in boxing, our boxing ring at our Overhill house became a learning stage for his three boys. In 1957, we were all given Wilson junior boxing gloves as Christmas gifts. I was 8 years old; my brothers were 12 and 13.

The following excerpts from my Memoir, From The Hip & Heart, set the stage nicely.

… We appeared like real boxers in our flannel pajamas, covered by our white cotton briefs; our eager father led us to our already musty basement's poorly lit lower sanctum. It was as if Madison Square Garden had been transported into our Overhill basement. Our ten-foot ring was marked using masking tape outlined on the speckled linoleum floor. I recall Dad’s vocalizations that would simulate the bell ringing (ding, ding, ding), and he would announce in a New York accent, “Round Three”, bringing such realism to our training sessions.

Dad’s large hands would only partially fill our boxing gloves as he used them to teach us the differences between jabs and hooks. I believe he lived with a fantasy that even in his late thirties, he might have given Floyd Patterson (the reigning champion at that time) a run for his money. Dad was a strapping man and in pretty darn good shape, but I’m sure Patterson would have set him down in the second round in our basement boxing ring.

My last memory here in our training sessions was glancing across the ring at my older brothers, Fred and Dick. They featured smiles, gleeful and determined - not a good combination. I was soon to be bloodied, and more than once. This became my introduction to boxing in our famous Adams' boxing ring.

Thankfully, the game of golf came to the forefront the following Spring. It was much more my cup of tea.