A SWEATSHOP WITH CHARACTER : Since 1970s, Westminster Boxing Club Has Given Youngsters a Fightng Chance to Be Successful.

Say this for the Westminster Boxing Club: The place has character. And it also draws its share of characters.

The club, on Locust Avenue near an unfinished furniture store on Westminster Avenue, used to be a sweatshop. But the garment manufacturer that occupied the building for years left in the late 1960s. It stayed empty for more than a decade, so the club moved in and turned it back into a sweatshop.

On a steamy July afternoon, Mike (Choo Choo) Chavez sits out front in a folding metal chair trying to beat the heat. Chavez is the rotund executive director and co-founder of the club.

He and Carlos Palomino started the club in the early 1970s, finding equipment and a place to set it up wherever they could.

“It took about five years before we got our doors open full time,” Chavez said.

The club spent about four years in a building on Golden West Street, then moved to its current location about six years ago.

Palomino went on to win the World Boxing Council welterweight title in 1976 and earn a tidy little nest egg from boxing. Chavez stayed behind, ran for the city council in Westminster that same year, lost, and pushed and prodded to find the club a permanent home.

He hasn’t made a cent off the club, which is a non-profit United Way agency, but he has reaped rewards in ways that have little monetary value. His vocation is automobile mechanic, but his avocation is the boxing club.

George Garcia, a 31-year-old house painter and super bantamweight fighter, pulls up in his van when he sees Chavez sitting out front.

He needs some help. His brakes have been making a terrible squeaking sound and he’s worried about them. “Hey Choo Choo, maybe you can have a look later?” Garcia said.

Garcia has been coming to the club since he was in his early teens. He figures Chavez, the club and boxing have straightened out his life at least twice.

Without the club, Garcia said he would be drinking in a nearby park with his friends.

“It gave me a place to go to and spend time away from the park,” Garcia said. “Now, I’ve got something in my heart that’s going to push me.”

Garcia had his first professional fight in 1978, fighting a succession of no-names until he got a shot at the big time against Richard Sandoval in 1983.

“He owned him for seven rounds,” Chavez said. But Sandoval rallied for a 10-round decision. The next year, Sandoval won a world bantamweight title in Atlantic City.

Garcia, who went on to hold the state bantamweight and super bantamweight titles, recently ended a three-year layoff and returned to the ring.

In June he upset Jesus Poll, who had fought for the World Boxing Assn. title two months earlier, in a 10-round decision at the Reseda Country Club.

“George and another kid, whose name I’ve forgotten, came here as little kids,” Chavez said. “They were fighting some surfers.”

And that put them into the first of about three categories of youngsters who show up at Chavez’s door.

First are the tough kids, looking, whether they realize it or not, for a constructive outlet for their energies.

Second are the kids who only think they’re tough. They usually don’t last long. Kids who think they’re tough don’t like doing 100 sit-ups day after day, Chavez said.

Third are the kids who really want to box, these are fewer in number, but more dedicated and coachable.

Chavez takes them all in, regardless of age or background.

“But,” he said. “we don’t baby-sit them. They gotta work or get out.”

The club is painted battleship gray with a touch of blue trim here and there. Small lettering above one of the doors reads:

Westminster Boxing Club

4:30-7:30

Mon.-Fri.

Inside, a handwritten sign in red and black marker reads:

All Boxers

Please Sign In

Monthly Gym Dues

18 and under $10

Professionals $20

No Pay No Train

Six worn-out, heavy bags hang from the ceiling. On crowded days, boxers trade off hitting the bags.

Some skip rope, keeping time as the rope beats methodically under foot. Others punch speed bags with a furious, non-stop energy.

A few boxers pound gloves held by trainers as they move around the bare concrete floor. “Here, hit this,” one says to the fighter he’s working with, holding up a glove. The youngster pounds away with a right cross.

And still others bob and weave in front of several mirrors placed around the club.

There are two rings wedged into one corner of the 4,500 square-foot building.

Occasionally, the club has age-group amateur tournaments, but mostly it’s a place to work out and learn to box.

Fighters in gray, blue and black outfits dance lightly around the rings on the balls of their feet, trading heavy blows. Trainers, all of them volunteers, watch with a carefully attuned eye.

To younger boxers, they holler an endless stream of advice. “Move. Stick. Harder. Now back off. Now stick. Jab. That’s it.”

They also fine-tune the volleys of the professionals. Even experienced fighters need endless hours of teaching, particularly before a fight.

Suddenly, a harsh-sounding buzzer rings out and all action stops. The fighters jog in place, catching their breath while trying to stay loose. After 60 seconds, the buzzer sounds again and everyone resumes their workout.

It’s like this each afternoon. Three minutes of work, followed by a minute of rest, in a fixed pattern.

The boxers are surrounded by posters. Leonard vs. LaLonde. Fight night at the Forum. Richard Sandoval .

Yellowing newspaper clippings are posted on a board on one wall.

There’s Paul Gonzales, the 1984 Olympian, posing with Chavez and other club officials. Willie deWit, the Canadian heavyweight, pounds a bag in another picture. Garcia is pictured in another. Nearby is a lengthy article on the Yuppie following that the Irvine Marriott’s monthly program has developed.

All that seems a long way from 14042 Locust Ave. in Westminster on a warm summer afternoon. But that’s why many of the 30 boxers punch and skip rope and listen attentively to their trainers. They want to walk into the limelight as professional boxers.

David Ramirez, a 15-year-old junior-to-be at Westminster High School, has been coming to the club about 11 months.

“He’s one of our most promising young fighters,” Chavez said, pointing out Ramirez, who batters a speed bag in one corner of the gym.

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” said Ramirez, dripping sweat during a rest interval. “I looked into it last year and came down to the club.”

He has been coming daily ever since in hopes of becoming the next George Garcia. Or the next Carlos Palomino.

Noe Cruz, a retired roofer, also comes to the gym every day. He started training Palomino in 1968 at the old Stanton Boxing Club. He also has worked with the Quarry brothers, Mike and Jerry. Cruz can reel off a page-worth of other names, but only a few are recognizable.

Nowadays, Cruz works with younger amateurs such as Ramirez. He also hands down his training knowledge to Chavez and the other young trainers.

“I’m going to be gone soon,” Cruz said. “I could keep all the knowledge with me, but that’s no good. I like to share it. (Chavez) is younger. He can pass it on. He’s the one I’ve picked to pass it on.”

Garcia, too, spends time with the younger boxers trying to pass on the hints he has learned in his years in the fight game. It helps him stay involved.

“We’re not just trying to teach the kids to box,” Garcia said. “There’s more to it than that. This club has touched my life. If I would have been like this from the git-go, I’d be a lot better off now.”