Spinning His Way to Fame

Bill Caplan is going into the World Boxing Hall of Fame.

Bill who?

Boxing fans will nod in recognition at the rest of the inductees in the class of 2002. Who doesn’t know George Foreman, the former two-time heavyweight champion, or Mike McCallum, who won world titles in three weight classes, or former junior-featherweight and bantamweight champion Lupe Pintor, or former flyweight champion Miguel Canto?

Anybody familiar with the sport has heard of trainer Freddie Roach or seen television analyst Larry Merchant, who were elected in the expanded category.

But Caplan?

The public may not know him well, if at all, but media representatives in this town and many others know Caplan very well--have known him for 40 years.

Too well, sometimes.

If you have a phone, if you have a mailing address, if you have an e-mail address, if there is a restaurant you frequent--especially a restaurant--Caplan will find you and talk to you and plead with you and wine you and whine to you until you give his fighter of the moment space in your paper or time on your station, or just a mere mention. Publicity, the driving force in boxing, is also the driving force in Caplan’s life.

Since 1962, he has been a promoter, matchmaker, ring announcer and part-time actor with credits in a dozen movies. But mostly, he has been a publicist for everybody from Foreman to Butterbean.

Starting at the Top

In 1957, Caplan and Sandy, his pregnant wife of less than a year, set out for California to seek their fortune after the family bakery in Des Moines, Iowa, had been sold.

They were desperately in need of some fortune. Their funds were so thin, Sandy had to leave her watch as collateral at a service station along the way when they ran low on gas.

After arriving in Southern California, the Caplans coasted the final hundred yards to the Baldwin Hills home of Bill’s sister, Ruth Rummans, because the car was again out of gas.

But Ruth’s husband, Larry, changed Caplan’s career prospects. Rummans was a widely known figure in local boxing. He was the West Coast representative for Sugar Ray Robinson and managed fighters backed by, among others, Frank Sinatra.

Rummans got Caplan his first publicity job for a promoter named Joe Louis.

Yes, that Joe Louis.

Louis promoted several fight cards in Los Angeles in the early ‘60s. He liked having the young, energetic Caplan around. He just couldn’t remember his name, only his connection to Rummans. So Louis called Caplan simply “brother-in-law.”

Hair Today, Fame and Fortune Tomorrow

Caplan went on to work for Aileen Eaton and George Parnassus, two of the biggest names in L.A. boxing. Over the years, Caplan has also worked for everybody from Don King to Bob Arum, his current employer.

Caplan even claims to have been present at the hair-raising moment when King forever stamped his image in the consciousness of his sport.

It was in a hotel back in the 1970s, when King was first making his presence felt in boxing. King, says Caplan, went into a bathroom, comb in hand, with his hair looking semi-normal, and emerged with his trademark electric-socket look.

“Do you think this will help me get noticed?” King asked, according to Caplan.

King says he doesn’t recall the incident, implying, apparently, that his hair grows that way naturally.

Always There, by George

Caplan has been most closely aligned with Foreman. At a luncheon earlier this week to announce the hall inductees, Caplan broke down when he realized he was going in with his longtime friend.

Caplan met Foreman in Oakland in 1967, when the fighter was an 18-year-old amateur who had just suffered his first loss after having gone 6-0.

Caplan, wearing a tuxedo because he was working as a ring announcer that night, went into the locker room, patted the dejected Foreman on the back and told him, “Don’t worry, son, you’re going to be a good fighter someday.”

Foreman later said he was contemplating early retirement until this “celebrity” gave him confidence.

“Why did you think I was a celebrity that night?” Caplan asked him.

“Because you were wearing a tuxedo,” Foreman said, “and because you were telling everybody else what to do.”

Seven years later, Caplan was again trying to boost Foreman’s flagging spirits, this time in Zaire after his crushing defeat at the hands of Muhammad Ali.

Foreman, lying on a rubbing table, still in shock, told a gathering of worldwide media, “I found true friendship tonight. I found a true friend in Bill Caplan.”

Foreman retired in 1977, announcing that he would never again bare his chest to the world. Nine years later, Caplan read in an in-flight magazine that Foreman had announced he was thinking of again publicly taking his shirt off.

Caplan rushed to Foreman’s home in Houston. When Foreman opened the door, he looked at Caplan, smiled and said, “Bill, what took you so long?”

The comeback was on.

Lying Down on the Job

In 1982, Pintor, then the World Boxing Council’s bantamweight champion, agreed to defend his title against South Korean Seung-Hoon Lee. Caplan arranged a news conference at a Korean restaurant.

Arriving first, Pintor and his entourage waited for Lee in vain for 45 minutes. Finally, despite the frantic appeals of Caplan, Pintor and his followers stormed out and got into their station wagon in the parking lot.

Caplan, determined to see this news conference come off, lay down in front of the car, all 300-plus pounds of him.

“I looked like a beached Jewish whale,” Caplan said.

Slowly, the Pintor car inched forward until, just before it reached Caplan, Lee arrived.

Wrote Allan Malamud in the Herald Examiner, “Everyone was rooting for the station wagon.”

On Oct. 19, at the Crowne Plaza and Commerce Casino, Caplan and the rest of the class of 2002 will be inducted. And nobody will be asking, Bill who?