MOORE REMEMBERS. . . : Perfect Ending for Marciano : Holmes’ Bid to Tie Record Evokes Events of 30 Years Ago Tonight

Thirty years ago tonight, under threatening skies in New York’s Yankee Stadium, Rocky Marciano pounded his way to the final victory of a perfect career in professional boxing.

When he knocked out light-heavyweight champion Archie Moore in the ninth round that night, it was his 49th victory in 49 fights. Seven months later, he retired, unbeaten.

It is Marciano’s record that another perfect heavyweight, Larry Holmes, is seeking to tie tonight at Las Vegas in his bout with Michael Spinks, the light-heavyweight champion.

Holmes and Marciano. Their only common points are the title and the fact that they were both 48-0 on this date, 30 years apart. Holmes is a black high school dropout from Easton, Pa. Marciano was the son of an Italian shoemaker in Brockton, Mass., where he first wanted to be a major league catcher, not a boxer. Holmes is 6 feet 3 inches tall and 220 pounds. Marciano was maybe 5-10 and never weighed more than 188 in the ring.

Curiously, Marciano’s name sometimes goes unmentioned when boxing students discuss the century’s great heavyweights, as does that of a 1920s heavyweight champion, Gene Tunney, the only other heavyweight who retired undefeated as champion.

Jack Johnson, Jack Dempsey (who was 0-2 against Tunney), Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali are the heavyweights most frequently talked about in “Who was the greatest . . . “ conversations.

Marciano went 49-0 from the late 1940s into the mid-1950s. But his reign occurred during a period of small heavyweights, which partly explains why a man who was never beaten receives so little respect from historians.

Marciano, champion for only 3 years 7 months, from 1952 until his retirement in April of 1956, fought just one 200-pounder in six title defenses, Englishman Don Cockell (205). Three challengers--Roland LaStarza, Ezzard Charles and Moore--weighed less than 190.

Moore, 68, who lives in San Diego, said that Holmes, the man who seeks to join Marciano at 49-0 tonight, is easily ranked with the great heavyweights.

“Oh my, yes,” Moore said the other day when asked if he believed that Holmes was in a class with Louis, Ali and Marciano.

“Larry has a great jab, one of the best, and he’s a great general in the ring--he goes in there knowing what he has to do.”

Moore was 38, well past his prime, when he finally got a chance at the heavyweight title. Marciano was 31 and, as always, in almost unbelievable physical condition. The videotape of the fight shows a champion who could throw big punches without letup for three minutes, who never stopped moving forward and who simply wore down less-conditioned athletes.

Moore was knocked down four times by Marciano that night, but he rates Marciano no better than third among big hitters he faced in a 27-year, 231-bout career.

“After a fight with Marciano, you felt like someone had been beating you all over the upper body with a blackjack, or hitting you with rocks,” Moore said.

“He could hurt you, sure. But it was the quantity of his punches. In the late 1940s, I fought a guy named Curtis (the Hatchet Man) Sheppard, from Pittsburgh. He was the hardest hitter I ever faced. When the Hatchet Man hit you, it felt like an electric shock. And Lloyd Marshall, a heavyweight from Cleveland who now lives in Sacramento--I’d say hit harder than Rocky, too.

“Both of those guys, they hit so hard you’d find yourself on the canvas with no idea how you got there, or what had happened. Marciano, he simply wore you out because he was in such great shape all the time.

“Physical condition was Rocky’s forte. He just had more stamina than anyone else in those days. He fought with what I call acceleration. He’d start a flurry on you, then just when you’d expect him to back off, he’d speed it up, increase the tempo. For the whole fight, I was scared I’d get winded, and wouldn’t be able to keep him off me, which is what eventually happened.

“I never boxed a guy who was in that kind of physical condition. He set the pace and just never stopped throwing punches. He never let you have a breather. He was always in your face.

“Would Marciano have had a chance against Holmes? Oh, it’s hard to say. Rocky might not have been able to handle Larry if Larry was in great shape. If Larry wasn’t in great shape, Rocky, in spite of his smaller size, might have been able to use his strength inside, go to a constant barrage inside. Larry wouldn’t have been able to push Rocky around, I’m sure of that. Rocky was such a strong guy.”

On that subject, Joe Louis, knocked out in 1951 by Marciano, said in 1955: “When I fought him, I knew I was past my peak and my reflexes were not what they might have been. But I was just as strong as ever. I couldn’t do a thing in the way of handling Rocky in close and I outweighed him 25 pounds.”

September 21, 1955.

A new Cadillac cost $5,500. A steak dinner in Manhattan was $3.95. A man’s suit at Saks Fifth Avenue was $56. New homes at Santa Anita Estates in Arcadia went for $21,000.

The Major League batting leaders were Richie Ashburn of the Philadelphia Phillies at .345, and Al Kaline of the Detroit Tigers at .341. Duke Snider of the Brooklyn Dodgers led the majors with 134 RBIs. Willie Mays, 24, had hit his 50th homer for the New York Giants the day before the fight.

Archie Moore had spent, by his calculation, several years and about $50,000 trying to get a shot at the heavyweight championship, sending telegrams and placing calls to promoters and sports editors all over the country. Now, unfortunately for him at 38, he was up against one of the best conditioned athletes in the history of boxing, a man in his prime.

He was also up against a referee about to have a bad night.

Marciano and Moore were about to embark on a heavyweight championship match that some say hasn’t been equaled for excitement. Wrote New York Times columnist Arthur Daley that night: “This was a magnificent fight.”

Before he went out in the ninth, on the seat of his pants, Moore, at 188 pounds, had his moment. In the second round, he nailed Marciano, 188, on the side of the jaw with a short right. Marciano dropped to his right knee. He arose almost immediately. However, his knees wobbled and he stared out at the vast Yankee Stadium crowd, temporarily unable to see his opponent.

Referee Harry Kessler, meanwhile, had begun a standing-eight count on Marciano. That was a rotten break for Moore, particularly since the standing-eight count had been waived for the bout. Had Moore been able to follow up immediately, he probably would have scored a knockout.

As it was, however, Kessler held Marciano’s gloves briefly, then started the standing-eight count, with a confused Moore standing right behind the referee. At the count of three, Kessler began looking confused, briefly appeared lost, then summoned the combatants to battle again.

By then, Marciano’s knees were firm and he had Moore in sharp focus.

Moore was asked recently what he’d do differently if he had the fight over.

“I’d get a different referee,” he snapped.

“I’ve always called him Callous Kessler since that night. Those five or six seconds were the difference. If he’d done his job properly, I think I would have knocked Rocky out. At the time, all I could think of was racism. I see it a little differently now.

“Harry will probably sue me for saying this, but I don’t give a damn. When I put Rocky down, (Kessler) became a confused man who didn’t know what he was doing. He looked like some stupid sissy, running around in there.”

After that fateful second round, Moore gave 61,574 fans in Yankee Stadium and 127 theater audiences in 92 cities a lesson in courage. Marciano, increasing the tempo of his furious attack with every round, seemed to have Moore teetering on the edge of a knockout in parts of every round thereafter.

But Moore fought back defiantly, answering Marciano’s assaults with flurries of his own.

The sixth, especially, was a round to remember. On videotapes and films of boxing champions and classic bouts, there’s probably not a more exciting single round than the sixth round of the Marciano-Moore fight.

It’s vintage Marciano, throwing haymakers for three minutes from every direction, setting new standards for ferocity, power and stamina. It’s vintage Moore, withstanding the barrage and answering in kind, giving new meaning to the words heart and courage.

Moore wilted twice, but only briefly, during Marciano’s firestorm. Marciano missed Moore with a left hook on the ropes, but caught him a split-second later with a big right on the chin. Archie slumped to the deck.

Roaring, the crowd leaped to its feet, thinking that surely this was the end, that Moore couldn’t get up. He was up at the count of four, after which Kessler started another standing-eight count.

Late in the round, Moore went into a low crouch to escape Marciano’s attack. Marciano hit him on the back of the head, knocking Moore down again. Such a punch is illegal, but professional boxing, then as now, showed itself as the most poorly officiated of all major sports.

At the bell ending the sixth, few could believe that Moore was still standing. Or that Marciano could still lift his arms.

Wrote the New York Times’ Joe Nichols, who covered the bout:

“Abounding in highlights as the fight was, it contained one that will probably be referred to by this generation as comparable to any single round in heavyweight title history. That was the sixth round, when Archie was floored twice.

” . . . for every punch Rocky threw, Archie threw one back. All semblance of boxing was forgotten as the tremendously strong athletes flailed away at each other with a fury that bordered on the heroic.”

Wrote Budd Schulberg, covering for Sports Illustrated: “ . . . (it) was a beautiful spectacle of pain and skill and endurance, and die-slow courage and a resoluteness that makes champions and wins wars.”

Marciano finally ended it in the ninth with two short left hooks to Moore’s jaw. Moore tried to get up once more but toppled over after getting to one knee. It was Marciano’s 43rd knockout in 49 victories.

The promoter, Jim Norris, said that gross receipts, stadium and theater revenue, had reached about $1.3 million, the first million-dollar fight since the second Joe Louis-Billy Conn bout in 1946. Marciano earned about $460,000, Moore about $240,000.

There is a lasting memory of the fallen Moore, forlornly seated on the canvas, in his corner, while Marciano, crouching in front of Moore, compassion on his face, congratulates his foe on his inspiring effort.

Moore fought until 1963. He was 44 when a rising sensation, Cassius Clay, knocked him out in Los Angeles, in 1962.

Marciano never fought again. He died in a small-plane crash at Newton, Iowa, on Aug. 31, 1969, the day before his 46th birthday.