Former World Champion Boxer Bobby Chacon, 47, Suffers From Pugilistic Dementia and Chronic Substance Abuse, but Again He Is Trying to Get . . . : OFF THE CANVAS

By FERNANDO DOMINGUEZ

May 6, 1999 12 AM PT

TIMES STAFF WRITER

That Bobby Chacon can remember anything, especially fights from nearly 30 years ago, is remarkable.

Eighteen years of blows to the head and substance abuse left him with slurred speech and other symptoms of pugilistic dementia. His short-term memory is poor and he carries a notebook and pencil to scribble reminders.

“He has selective memory,” said friend Philip Ramirez.

Sometimes, Chacon says, he’d just rather forget. Like the hangers-on who took much of the money he didn’t snort or drink, like the death of his first wife and one son, like his estrangement from relatives.

“Don’t remind me, please,” he said.

Chacon, former featherweight and super-featherweight world champion, lives at Steps to Freedom Ministry in Los Angeles, a home for recovering drug addicts and alcoholics. He’s using a medical disability pension to finance his latest attempt at sobriety.

John Rodriguez, a minister who runs the program, said Chacon is making progress.

“We take him to AA [Alcoholics Anonymous] meetings in the evenings and he really enjoys that,” Rodriguez said.

Moving to the facility hasn’t stopped Chacon, 47, from rising before dawn and roaming the streets looking for cans and bottles he collects for recycling, partly to pick up extra cash and partly to escape boredom.

Through it all, Chacon maintains a sense of humor, laughing often and telling jokes.

“Time goes on. You can’t stop it,” Chacon said. “What are you going to do? Cry about it?”

A light breeze sends a chill through the coffee shop’s patio as Chacon heads for the rest room. His kidneys, damaged from trying to make weight by reducing body fluids, are feeling the effects of too many glasses of water.

“Every morning I pick him up and we go to breakfast,” said longtime friend Patty Gonzales, who has power of attorney to handle Chacon’s affairs. “Sometimes we go shopping.”

Chacon returns and a twinkle comes to his eyes and his pudgy face breaks into a grin when the waitress makes an offer.

“I’ll bring you some chocolate cookies,” she tells Chacon. “Anyone else want some?”

Two companions at the patio table decline and Chacon pounces on the opportunity with the speed he once used to dispatch opponents on his way to nine world championship bouts.

“I’ll take theirs too,” he says, giggling.

It’s barely past breakfast on a cool morning in East Los Angeles and, much like a child, Chacon already is craving sweets.

After years spent abusing drugs and alcohol, after living mostly on the edge and sometimes toppling over, sugar is what Chacon yearns for these days.

“I like cookies and coffee in the mornings,” Chacon says.

There was a time when mornings for Chacon meant the roadwork and conditioning necessary for prizefighters.

He sprung from the streets of Pacoima, a handsome kid with hard fists and blind ambition, to become featherweight world champion in 1974 at age 22. His future seemingly had no limit.

“The main thing that impressed me was he was knocking on my door, wanting to be a fighter,” said Joe Ponce, Chacon’s trainer. “I trained him in my garage for about a month, to see if he was really serious.”

Sufficiently convinced Chacon meant business, Ponce laid down the law: He would teach, Chacon would listen--or the deal was off.

“The first time I saw him I said, ‘Gee, this guy’s going to be great.’ He caught on to what I was telling him right away,” said Ponce, who began boxing in the Valley in 1928. “I figured he would be a champion someday.”

Chacon, never short on confidence, rigorously trained at the old Frankie Goodman gym in Van Nuys for his goal of winning a title belt. Soon after his pro debut, Chacon became highly popular in Los Angeles boxing arenas, where people flocked to watch the young sensation nicknamed “Schoolboy.”

He had graduated from San Fernando High and enrolled at Cal State Northridge, but his physical education studies quickly went by the wayside.

“I had 16 fights my first pro year [1972],” Chacon said. “I hardly had time to make love to my wife.”

Pound for pound, Chacon was as powerful and skilled as anyone in boxing.

“He was really strong for his weight and he could move,” Ponce said.

Chacon moved up swiftly after those first few training sessions in Ponce’s garage. He got his first shot at a championship in 1973, losing to Mexico’s Ruben Olivares on a ninth-round technical knockout in a bout for the North American Boxing Federation’s featherweight title.

Then came a major turning point for Chacon.

On May 24, 1974, Chacon was 23-1 when he met undefeated Danny “Little Red” Lopez in a legendary featherweight slugfest many rate among the best ever in Los Angeles. More than 16,000 people packed the Sports Arena to watch the local fighters exchange blow after crushing blow from the opening bell.

In the ninth round, Ponce ordered Chacon to finish off Lopez.

“I thought [Lopez’s] legs were giving out,” Ponce said. “I told Bobby to go get him.”

Chacon staggered Lopez with a right cross and dropped him with several more blows. Lopez stood up, but he was out on his feet.

“I was in a daze,” Lopez recalled years later. “I tried to fight back, but it was like everything was in slow motion.”

The referee stepped in moments later and Chacon was $56,000 richer and the toast of the city.

“That was my favorite time in boxing,” Chacon said. “I went on Johnny Carson and everything.”

Four months after beating Lopez, Chacon knocked out Alfredo Marcano in the ninth round to win the World Boxing Council featherweight belt.

He lost the title to Olivares on a technical knockout in June 1975, in front of 18,770, the only standing-room only boxing crowd ever at the Forum, and defeated Rafael “Bazooka” Limon for the WBC junior-lightweight crown in a 15-round decision in 1982.

By then, Chacon’s life was unraveling.

“I was a pretty dedicated fighter,” Chacon said. “After I became champion [in 1982] everything became a little haywire. I could have anything I wanted now, so I did.”

Except, perhaps, happiness.

In 1982, the first of his four wives, Valerie, committed suicide in their Sylmar home.

“She wanted me to stop fighting,” Chacon said. “I was never home. She was depressed. I was in the gym when she shot herself. I drove [home] 100 miles an hour.”

Two years later, Chacon was placed on probation for beating his second wife and three years after that he was sentenced to six months in jail for violating the probation.

In 1991, one of Chacon’s three children, Bobby Jr., was killed at 17 in a gang slaying in Panorama City.

“I took him to Arizona and he ran away back to L.A.,” Chacon said. “He got shot the next day.”

Chacon fought until 1987, retiring with a 58-7-1 record, including 46 knockouts, but little else to show for his career. The $2 million Chacon says he earned fighting was wasted and his championship belts were stolen.

“I just didn’t take care of [the money],” Chacon said. “I trusted everyone. I thought everyone was my friend. Everybody was getting something. Now they’re all gone ‘cause they can’t get anything from me.”

Chacon doesn’t lament what he lost and doesn’t ask for anything, except two unattainable wishes.

“Bring back Valerie and my son,” he said.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

BOBBY CHACON’S CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHTS

June 23, 1973, at Inglewood

Lost to Ruben Olivares, TKO 9, for vacant North American Boxing Federation featherweight title

Sept. 7, 1974, at Los Angeles

Defeated Alfredo Marcano, TKO 9, for World Boxing Council featherweight title

March 1, 1975, at Los Angeles

Defeated Jesus Estrada, KO 2, to retain title

June 20, 1975, at Inglewood

Lost WBC title to Olivares, TKO 2