Ring Masters : Retired Prizefighters Gather to Recall Their Golden Years

They were yesterday’s fighters--champions, challengers, winners of lesser titles. A few won Golden Gloves, some fought in the service. One is a retired wrestling champ.

Today, they’re a social club called the Golden State Boxers and Wrestlers Assn. Every Tuesday at noon, 15 to 20 of them gather for lunch at the Old Spaghetti Factory in Hollywood. And between mouthfuls of pasta, they talk about their days in the ring.

A few made a good living at boxing. Most did not. But some still have the facial scars and swollen knuckles to prove it was a tough business.

Sitting around the room are Jimmy McLarnin, Ike Williams, Billy Varga, Clarence Henry, Pete Servin, Dave Maier, George Levine and Joey Dorando. The oldest is 90, the youngest 55.

There is a weekly ritual: As club President Hugh Sublett, a Marine Corps champ at Camp Lejeune, N.C., during World War II, introduces each member in attendance, the others applaud. He introduces McLarnin as “one of the greatest fighters ever to step into the ring.”

McLarnin was a two-time welterweight champion. Braven Dyer of the Los Angeles Times once wrote, “The Irish youngster had dynamite in his dukes.”

At 83, McLarnin still has an athlete’s erect posture and is just a few pounds over his fighting weight. He won the welterweight title in 1933 by knocking out Young Corbett III in the first round at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles.

McLarnin had three classic 15-rounders with Barney Ross. The young champion lost the title in the first fight and won it back in the second. In the third fight, described by the New York Times as “one for boxing’s history book,” McLarnin lost a close decision. He retired in 1936.

In a 14-year career, he defeated such fighters as Billy Petrolle, Jackie Fields, Benny Leonard, Sammy Mandell, Lou Ambers and Tony Canzoneri.

“I had a great manager in Pop Foster,” McLarnin said. “Together, we made a good living. I got $100,000 for the three fights with Ross.”

What kind of advice did his manager give before a fight?

“Pop Foster always told me to keep my left hand up and keep my butt off the canvas.

“I’m a lucky guy,” McLarnin added. “I survived with no major injuries--just some busted knuckles and ribs and a broken jaw.”

Next to McLarnin sits Ike Williams, lightweight champion from 1945 to 1951, dapper in a dark suit and tie.

“I got interested in boxing at age 9 after I saw a picture of Jim Corbett,” Williams recalled. “By the time I was 13, I was in the ring.” Whom did he admire? Joe Louis, he said. And Henry Armstrong. “But Sugar Ray Robinson was the best there ever was.”

His best fights? Williams remembers Sammy Angott, Enrique Bolanos, Kid Gavilan, Carmen Basilio and Bob Montgomery.

“Bolanos was a good fighter,” Williams said. “And Gavilan was tough. I could never knock him down.”

Williams fought Montgomery for the 135-pound title in 1945, defeating him in six rounds with what New York sportswriter James P. Dawson called “a blizzard of blows.” He successfully defended his crown five times before losing it in 1951 to James Carter. He had 154 fights and won 125, including 60 by knockout. In 1948, Ring magazine named him Fighter of the Year.

Once, Williams recalled, he got an offer to fight Sugar Ray Robinson. He smiles at the recollection.

“I said no. I ain’t crazy.”

Williams did make money in the ring, but sometimes didn’t keep much. “My manager didn’t always give me what I’d earned,” he says diplomatically.

That is his only allusion to a darker side of boxing that Williams knows from personal experience. In Williams’ heyday, the influence of organized crime was pervasive in boxing. The mob had a lot to say about who fought whom, and more than a few fights were fixed. Williams testified about it in 1960 before a congressional inquiry headed by Sen. Estes Kefauver.

Halfway down the lunch table sits Pete Servin. He defeated the Arizona state middleweight champ in 1951 and fought a number of times in Hollywood Legion Stadium and Ocean Park Arena.

“I was hoping to get a shot at Bobo Olson’s title,” he said, “but I never did. When my manager quit the game, I got out too.”

Next to Servin sits Dud Eades. He’s 83 and talks softly. “I had a lot of fights in the ‘20s and ‘30s,” he said. “I hung around the gym. I needed money. I got 15 or 20 bucks a fight, but I had to give back five to the promoter. I finally got out of boxing and spent 40 years in the merchant marine.”

George Levine, at 90, is senior member of the club. He’s wiry, the result of daily exercise, he said. He got into fighting at 16.

“We lived in a tough Brooklyn neighborhood,” he said. “I’m Jewish and I got beat up by Irish bullies. So I learned to fight.”

Levine fought Pete Latzo for the welterweight crown in 1926. Latzo won on a foul, but Levine earned $25,000 for one night’s work.

“I gave half to my manager, sent some to my folks,” he said. “Boxing was tough. When I lost an eye, I got out.”

Sitting at one corner of the lunch table is Dave Maier. At 82, with a chest like a military drum, Maier looks fit. He was a 1928 Olympian, but hurt his hand and didn’t compete. In 1931, he was one of the first Golden Gloves winners.

In 1932, he trounced light-heavyweight champion Maxie Rosenbloom in a non-title bout. Ring magazine said: “Maier gave one of his finest exhibitions.”

Clarence Henry is another regular at the club. He was the third-ranked heavyweight in 1952. Boxing fans still recall Henry’s one-round knockout of Bob Satterfield. In 1952, he lost a decision to Archie Moore. Earlier, he fought a four-round exhibition against Joe Louis, which some thought Henry won.

There’s one former wrestler in the group--Billy Varga, or “Count Billy.” His father, also a champion wrestler, was a Hungarian war hero, and Varga adopted his father’s title of Count.

Varga competed for 30 years. He remembers winning title matches against Wild Red Berry and Danny McShain in Hollywood Legion Stadium. In 1957, he bested Ray Gunkle for the heavyweight crown.

Gorgeous George was one of his opponents. “A good wrestler,” Varga said. “We met for the Pacific Coast title and I won.”

How old was he when he learned to wrestle? “Ten--my father was a disciplinarian. By 15, I was a pro. I lied about my age.”

At 63, his weight is 212, the same as when he competed. He has a size 18 neck. “And no cauliflower ears,” he said with a laugh.

After retiring in 1972, Varga went in for surfing and skiing. Now he’s an actor. He had a role in “Raging Bull,” and he will appear in a new film “Alligator 2.”

Varga feels concern for young athletes. His advice to them: “Leave drugs and alcohol alone. They’ll ruin your body and shorten your life. . . . And that goes for steroids, too.”