Deck Stacked Against Lee

The case files from United States of America v. International Boxing Federation read like a spy novel.

There are clandestine meetings and phone calls filled with code words. Don King is referred to as “Fuzzy Wuzzy” and another promoter is called “the fat man.” Alleged bribes are “turkey” and “stuffing.”

At the center of the racketeering probe, IBF President Robert Lee Sr. has been cast as ringleader, wheedling cash payments from promoters and managers, urging his chief lieutenant to “see what you might be able to shake out of the tree.”

Lee calls such accusations outrageous and, to be sure, some of the witnesses assembled against him have spoken only after receiving immunity for their own misdeeds.

Still, the case unfolding at a federal courthouse here could be something rare for boxing. There is voluminous evidence--statements, videotapes and hours of recorded conversations--that if accurate would offer cold, hard facts in a sport where corruption lurks amid shadows.

For now, U.S. District Judge John W. Bissell has appointed a monitor to oversee the IBF while the U.S. attorney’s office pursues criminal and civil actions. In the wake of a grand jury indictment last November, Lee faces 39 counts of racketeering, money laundering and tax evasion. IBF executives Donald (Bill) Brennan, Francisco Fernandez and Lee’s son, Robert Jr., have also been charged.

Prosecutors say they solicited bribes to fix rankings, the valuable pecking order that determines which fighters get big-money bouts. Seven promoters and managers allegedly paid $338,000 on behalf of 23 boxers over 13 years.

Details of these allegations remained vague until last weekend, when Bissell unsealed the evidence in response to a motion by The Times.

The documents vividly portray an investigation that gathered steam in May 1997 when FBI agents approached yet another IBF executive, Doug Beavers. As chairman of the ratings committee, Beavers had access to his organization’s innermost workings. He was offered immunity and became the government’s star witness.

Reached by telephone in Virginia last May, Beavers said only, “I don’t know about any investigation in New Jersey.”

Yet, with his help, FBI agents secretly videotaped meetings attended by Lee and Brennan. Beavers was seen pulling cash from his sock or reaching for what appears to be a cellophane-wrapped packet of money taped to his leg. On other occasions, he recorded conversations with Lee and colleagues.

“Simply stated,” he told agents, “boxer’s ratings were enhanced when Robert W. Lee Sr. and I received payoffs from their promoters or managers.”

The bribes allegedly started small. In 1985, promoter Hisashi Ikeda wanted a rematch between IBF bantamweight champion Jeff Fenech and Satoshi Shingaki. He allegedly gave $500 to each of the IBF executives, who arranged the fight.

The annual conventions became an occasion for such payments. At the 1994 gathering in Reno, promoter Ron Weathers invited Beavers to his room at the El Dorado Hotel and handed him a package containing $20,000. The following month Joe Hipp, one of Weathers’ fighters, made the IBF heavyweight rankings at No. 5.

“It’s just common knowledge that if you want to get something done, you have to grease their palms,” Weathers said last year. “Either $10,000 or $20,000, depending on where you want the guy rated.”

Prices rose as time went by. In early 1995, promoter Bob Arum sought an exemption so George Foreman could bypass quality opponents and defend his heavyweight title against previously unranked Axel Schulz. Lee demanded $200,000.

Arum told investigators he paid half the bribe in advance, then heard from a third party that Lee had collected an additional $250,000 directly from Foreman. “I refused to pay any more money,” Arum said.

Foreman got his fight, defeating Schulz in a split decision, but that wasn’t the end. The next summer, at an IBF convention in Atlanta, promoter Cedric Kushner--”the fat man” in recorded conversations--wanted a rematch for Schulz. It would cost another $100,000.

Beavers said he collected the payment in June 1995, driving to Kushner’s house on Long Island. With the cash tucked into a briefcase, Beavers made the rounds.

First, he says, he drove to the Vince Lombardi Service Area on the New Jersey Turnpike to give $50,000 to Robert Lee Jr. Then he went to Brennan’s house to drop off $25,000, keeping $25,000 for himself.

Neither Lee Jr. nor Brennan could be reached for comment. Kushner’s attorney, Richard Edlin, said, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to comment on a case [that is ongoing].”

For his part, the senior Lee told the Newark Star-Ledger, “What am I going to say?”

Some promoters apparently tried to resist paying bribes. In June 1998, Dino Duva balked when asked to ante up for his emerging junior middleweight, Fernando Vargas.

“I did not make a payment at that time,” Duva said in a sworn statement. But, he continued, “I finally succumbed to Lee Sr.’s demands in December 1998. I placed $25,000 in a package and asked [an employee] to give the package to Lee Sr. at a breakfast meeting in Atlantic City.”

King was perhaps the most frequent contributor, according to documents. In their conversations, Lee and Beavers would talk of “making a run” to his Florida home, eager for the “Christmas turkey” and “ginseng” he passed their way.

The bribes bought preferential treatment, Beavers said, which worked both ways. Not only did King’s fighters, such as Henry Akinwande and Francois Botha, benefit from preferential treatment, but in the spring of 1997 featherweight Jose Badillo skidded down the IBF rankings when he left King for another promoter.

“Ya know why I dropped him,” Lee was quoted as saying. “Because he . . . jumped ship, ya know.”

King has denied making improper payments to the IBF or influencing the federation’s rankings. On Monday, his spokesman declined comment.

But Beavers said the IBF’s pattern of selling rankings continued unhindered through the mid-1990s.

In August 1997, when Lee wanted middleweight Simon Brown--a King boxer--eased into the rankings, Beavers replied: “I got a magic . . . pencil, boss. Whatever . . . you say. You tell me.”

A few months later, Lee sought to punish middleweight Ivan Robinson.

“He oughta come all the way out [of the rankings],” the IBF president complained. “He . . . gave us a bad check and never made good on it.”

By early 1998, Beavers began to grow worried about the capriciousness of such actions.

At one point, Lee seemed willing to rank one of King’s boxers, a Nicaraguan, neither he nor Beavers had heard of. Beavers and Brennan decided Lee was going overboard for King. Six months later, they talked about the risk of legal problems.

Unknown to Brennan, Beavers was already acting as an informant for the government.

“Brennan agreed with me that we were in deep trouble,” Beavers said. “When we talked about cooperating with the government, which I advocated to Brennan, he asked: ‘You mean, we gotta tell them we accepted money?’ ”