A ROMANCE OF THE RING : VICTOR FRENCH GETS IN WITH GOOSSEN : Actor Takes Over for Recently Deceased Patriarch of N. Hollywood’s 10 Goose Gym

Victor French had two dreams.

As a kid growing up in the San Fernando Valley, he acted out both. Watching boxing matches on television, he would shadow box right along with his video heroes. Tiring of this game of charades, French’s family would finally get up and leave the room.

No matter. “They came back 10 rounds later and I was still going strong,” French recalls.

Forty years later, he’s still going strong.

French long ago realized one dream, parlaying a job as a stunt man on the television show “Gunsmoke” into an acting career on the tube that has stretched from “Gunsmoke” to “Little House on the Prairie” to his current co-starring role on “Highway To Heaven.”

French also has expanded his TV work into directing, overseeing segments of everything from “Gunsmoke” and “Bonanza” to “Fame” and “Dallas.”

Now at 50, the other part of the dream is about to become reality.

But not the way French envisioned.

His love of boxing led him to a fight card staged in Culver City by the Goossens. Al and Ann Goossen of North Hollywood produced 10 offspring and enough of them were interested in the sport to produce Ten Goose Boxing, an organization complete with a do-it-yourself gym, promoters, matchmakers and trainers.

Son Dan is the president and main organizer. Brothers Joe and Greg are the trainers. Brother Pat is the matchmaker. Brother Mike, an attorney, handles the legal matters. And brother Tom owns the land on which the Ten Goose gym sits.

Eventually, even the patriarch got involved. Al, a member of the Los Angeles Police Department for 16 years, worked on everything from the Black Dahlia murder case to the apprehension of accused rapist Caryl Chessman--and recently became the promoter for Ten Goose.

But Al Goossen died 10 days ago.

And for the first time, the close-knit Goossen family is looking outside its own doors for help. They want French to be their promoter.

“He is part of the family,” Dan said. “He calls himself a Goossen. He just wants to do the best job possible of keeping our Dad’s name out there. We know it’s the best thing for us. This is a guy who has no personal ego problems. He’s doing it to keep Dad’s name alive in a proper way. He wants the operation to be successful because of Dad. We couldn’t ask for anyone more qualified.”

French, seated in an easy chair outside the Goossens’ North Hollywood gym, talked about his new venture. “I’ve wanted to get involved,” he explained. “I don’t know anything about how good a fighter is, but I like the business. Some people go sailing to relax. I live a half mile from this gym and I spend all my free time here. All my troubles are gone when I walk in here, like someone whose hobby is photography going into a darkroom.

“I came to the Goossens a year or two ago when they started and asked, ‘How can I help?’ I’ve invested some money (in the organization). I’ve bought some shares. I’ve done radio spots. I’ve gotten some other potential investors interested. And now I’d like to see them get a few more good fighters and a better facility to train in, maybe one with a couple of rings and some showers. Whatever I can do to help.”

The two major fighters in the Ten Goose stable are middleweight Michael Nunn and bantamweight Frankie Duarte, who recently lost a split decision to World Boxing Assn. champion Richie Sandoval.

“I got my manager’s license,” French said, “because it helped me get around arenas. It made me feel important, like an actor getting his Screen Actors Guild card. It’s like I’m legal when I talk to fighters. Now I’m going to get my promoter’s license.”

French, however, made it plain that he’s not just doing this to feel important.

“Some promoters will put a kid in who might get his brains beaten out just to make a payday,” French said. “They will put a world champion in with a kid who has had just 10 or 12 fights. The last few years, there have been terrible mismatches because the money is so big, people are willing to do anything. You have places like the Main Street gym where anybody who wants to pay the money can come in and get his brains knocked out.

“Well fighters here are not ripped off. They are not cheated. They are treated like part of the family. That is what Al Goossen was all about. He used to say, ‘Let’s emulate those things we applaud in life.’ That’s why I’m here. I want to keep this thing in Al’s name out of my respect for him. At the memorial mass they held for him, the church was packed. I don’t have that many fans, much less friends. And that was just scratching the surface. All his fighters were there with tears in their eyes. At what other stable would that happen?

“Here we don’t want fighters we know are going to get hurt. We don’t want people just out for a buck. I know that sounds highfalutin. I know that sounds idealistic, but I want Ten Goose to be everything Al wanted it to be. That’s what we are about. And the minute we are not, I want out.”

French paused and looked out in the street, where Duarte had just driven up.

“As long as he’s alive and I’m alive,” French said of his bantamweight, “and I have a buck, he can have part of it. We’ll take care of him. We’ll take care of our fighters.”