Throughout the history of sports, there have been
heroes of sorts handed down from generation to
generation. For example, Babe Ruth was Gargantura in
human form. Millions of people were influenced by
Jack Dempsey and felt the impact of his
individuality. In the littler world of golf Bobby
Jones invoked the same effect. Helen Wills was the
Mardi Gras of Tennis. Knute Rockne was football's
high priest. As a kid growing up in Tom's River and
Orange, N. J., my hero was Domenick Anthony
"Two-Ton" Tony Galento. He was the local martyr.
Jersey was agog.
My mom never had to look for my dad in those
days. Just part the bat wings of Tony's bar and
there he'd be, sitting on a stool talking to Tony or
Tony's "fight doctor," Doc Max Stern, who was also a
New Jersey Boxing Commission doctor. Maybe it was
because we kids were never subjected to his gruff
side that we all idolized him. We cheered when he
won and we cried when Joe Louis and Max Baer
punished him in a way only Hitler would enjoy.
"I was only twelve when I waited with my dad and
a large group of people for Tony to return to Doc
Stern's office at two in the morning to get patched
up after the Louis fight. My dad told him, "Tony,
for two seconds you were the Heavyweight Champion of
the World." "Next time I'll moider da bum," he
smiled through swollen lips. But the next time's
were over for Tony. The bludgeon proved to much for
the fat man.
I went into the Marines and lost track of Tony
until many years later when I read in the papers he
was to referee an Ernie Dusik wrestling match in
Lancaster, Pa. I approached him at the bar and
introduced myself. I was flattered that he
remembered me as a kid from the old block. He made
them give me back my general admission money and
took me and my agog girlfriend down to the front
row. He and Dusik (of course) got into a skirmish,
and Dusik tore his shirt off. Tony reached over the
ropes and tossed the shirt into my enthralled
girlfriend's lap. It was still hanging on a wall in
her bedroom along with his autographed picture when
she gave me the brush-off.
Tony and I talked about his career. We talked
about the fighters of the day -- the late '60s. He
boasted about how he would have "moidered da bums
today." A prototypical dock-brawler, he stood
5-foot-9 and weighed 235-240, depending on how much
beer and spaghetti he wolfed down before he entered
the ring. "Did you ever see a beer barrel walking,
well I did," wrote one reporter covering an early
fight.
No disrespect, but if Galento was starting his
career in the year 2000, he would rule over the
heavyweight division like Ben Hogan ruled golf. None
of today's top contenders, or the champ himself,
could have stood up under Two Ton's lambasting. The
fat man was a bus accident. Geronimo terrorizing one
fort after another in old Arizona. The greatest
charge of the light brigade the ring has ever known.
Okay, so he was fat, vulgar and uncouth. As far
as insulting someone, he made Don Rickles look like
Pope John XXIII. Joe Louis told me Galento was the
only man alive he ever hated. He didn't hate Max
Schmeling. He didn't Joseph Stalin. He hated Tony
Galento. Louis could chuckle about it now that the
bitterness between the two former combatants had
ended in a great friendship. In retrospect, Joe said
he was hurt because of the following conversation.
Listen:
Reporter: Tony, what do you think your
chances are against Joe Louis?
Galento: Joe who?
Reporter: Joe Louis.
Galento: I never hoid of da bum.
It sold tickets, but Louis's pride was hurt. The
final insult came when Tony dropped Louis for the
count of 2 in the second round. Louis felt
humiliated. People couldn't believe it. Picture if
you can, Fuzzy Knight saving the fort. George
Foreman met a hamburger he didn't like. Tony Tucker
showed up in shape to fight. It was that
unbelievable.
Galento's pulverizing round-house left hook and
total disregard for the Marquess of Queensbury made
him one of the most feared heavyweights of the
1930s. Born on March 12, 1910 in Orange, N. J., he
began fighting in 1928 and he fought almost every
month. He lost his fourth pro fight to a club house
fighter named James Jay Lawless by repeatedly
fouling him until the referee stopped it in the in
the 5th round. From June 25, 1930 to April 8, 1931
he mowed down ten opponents in a row like grass
before the sickle.
If Tony needed a friend in those days he would
have to buy a dog. Ray Arcel, who worked across the
ring from him in his fights with Max Baer, Lou Nova
and Nathan Mann, said "Nobody really like him except
maybe the guys who hung out in his saloon. "He was a
crude guy, to put it mildly, who would resort to all
sorts of foul tactics to win a fight."
Yeah, but in those days, it was the survival of
the fittest. There's no hospitalization benefits on
the bomb squad.
For dirty fighting, next to Galento, Mike Tyson
was a member of the House of Lords. Willie Pep an
alter boy. Fritzie Zivic sang in the choir at St.
Anthony's. During his 15 year career Galento got
away with more heists than Dillinger. He would butt.
Use his elbows. Gouge eyes. Aim for the gonads. Look
out, he has a gun!
His fight with Lou Nova on September 15, 1939 in
Filthydelphia was the dirtiest fight on record.
Mills Lane would have stopped it. Richard Steele
would have called the cops. It was like a walk
through South Central L.A. after midnight. You won't
be around for breakfast.
Pugilism was at its highest point by the time
Galento mauled his way into a championship fight
with Joe Louis. They called it "The Bum of the
Month" club, but how many fighters today could have
matched Galento's record of 74-22-6 with 51
knockouts? And the numbers do not begin to tell the
story of his fabulous career. In 1931 he kayoed
three Detroit opponents in one night, stopping
Frankie Kits and Joe Brian in one round each and
disposing of Paul Thierman in three. In between
rounds he quaffed his favorite brew.
In 1932 he won a $10 bet that he could eat 50 hot
dogs. 10 minutes later he climbed into the ring and
pulverized Arthur DeKuh in 4 rounds. That same year
he was disqualified in a fight with Jack Gagnon. It
was like watching a shark eat.
Galento even won on a disqualification in 1934.
Battling Bozo heard of Galento's reputation as a
dirty fighter and decided to foul him first. The
referee stopped the fight in the first round.
Galento followed that one up with a 3 round KO over
Italian Jack Herman. He lost twice on TKO's, once to
Marty Gallagher in 13 rounds, and once to a
light-heavyweight named Al Gainer in 4 rounds. From
there he ran up a streak of stoppages of leading
contenders including Nathan Mann (KO 4), Al Ettore (
TKO 8), Jorge Brescia ( KO 1), Abe Feldman (KO 3)
and Natie Brown ( KO 4).
His TKO of Harry Thomas in the 3rd round in
Filthydelphia on December 7, 1938, was highly booed
by fans who shouted "fake!" and tossed trash into
the ring. Said one old timer, "They threw everything
but the stature of William Penn from the top of the
arena into the ring." Well, if there was a joker in
the deck, it wouldn't be the first time Jackie
Robinson got caught stealing bases. Or Ma Barker
dragged her sons off to a drugstore and treated them
to a bottle of pungent crabocide.
Two Ton went through managers like Elizabeth
Taylor went through bridesmaids. He trained on beer
and Italian food. He hated the country and refused
to go into the mountains to a training camp. He
defended his queer-potato methods by saying "They
work for me." He did his roadwork after dark
because, he said, "I fight at night, don't I?"
This was the reason his list of managers read
like a chapter of Lamparski's "Whatever Became
Of...?" Elmer Flynn (1928) Harry Kinney (1928-1929),
Johnny Scavone (1929-1931) Max Waxman (1931-1932),
Pete Dodd (1932-1933), Jack Dempsey (1933-1934), Joe
Jacobs and Harry Mendel (1935-1941), Willie
Gilzenberg (1943).
He was already one of the most picturesque
characters in American ring history when he got his
"Bum of the Month" shot at the title in Yankee
Stadium on June 28, 1939. More shocking than Tyson
munching on Holyfield's ear, Joe Jacobs and Tony
Galento were at their sleazy worst. In the days
before the fight, Jacobs drummed up a phony charge
against Louis, accusing the Brown Bomber of having
concealed a metal bar in his right glove the night
he blitzkrieged Max Schmeling. Fight promoter Mike
Jacobs and the New York State Athletic Commission
came unglued. Sparks flew upward and they demanded a
retraction, which they got.
Galento wouldn't give up. Louis, you must
consider, didn't go for clowning. He was as serious
as a heart attack. So Galento's customary, "I'll
moider da bum," annoyed him like sweats and jeans on
Sunset Plaza Drive. As the fight approached
Galento's taunts became uglier. He called Louis on
the phone at all hours of the night, belaboring his
race and his family. During the pre-fight
introductions, Galento made sexual remarks about
Louis' wife, including some on-camera
crotch-polishing. The usually clam Louis lost his
composure -- and it almost cost him his title.
"Tony berated me something terrible before the
fight," Louis whispered to me during our interview.
"He got to me, and I hated him for it. I never hated
anybody before. I decided to punish him before I
knocked him out. I wanted it to go into later
rounds, but he kept calling me dirty names during
the fight. So I ended it."
Over 30,000 fans jammed the stadium on the night
of the fight. Galento was a 6-1 underdog with as
much of a chance of winning as a Wigwam has in a
hurricane. It was even money it would not last 5
rounds. Yet, a Gallop poll published by the New York
Times said 47% of the people were in Galento's
corner -- fight fans love an underdog. Ringside
seats went for $27.50. Cheap seats in the balcony
sold for $2.50.
Here's a story that has never been printed.
Remember you heard it here first. It was told to me
by my departed father, and everyone knows an
Irishman will never tell a lie.
The night before the Louis fight, Tony's brother
walked into his bar and asked Tony for a couple if
free tickets for the fight. Tony told him to stand
in line like everybody else. His brother hit him
over the head with a beer bottle. Doc Stern quickly
stitched up a three-inch gash in Tony's head and the
ordeal was hushed up, for fear the fight would be
cancelled. So Tony fought Louis with a raw gash in
his head. Today a fight is canceled on a sneeze.
"The first good punch I hit him with will put him
on the floor," Galento told his listener's at the
bar. He was almost right. At 233-3/4 pounds, Galento
bullied the 33-pound lighter Louis around the ring
in the first round, and nearly flattened him with a
stunning left hook that glazed the eyes of the
champ. Louis returned to his corner on wobbly legs.
Galento staggered Louis again in the second, but
near the bell Galento was knocked down for the first
time in his pugilistic career. His face looked like
slumgullion, but his finest moment was yet to come.
Louis was picking him apart with jabs, when
suddenly, Galento's dreaded left hook appeared like
Haley's Comet out of nowhere. An embarrassed and
mortified Louis went down. The rafters shook with
excitement. Louis jumped up at the count to two, but
his legs were Jello. In his effort to finish Louis
off, Galento's punches fanned the air and Louis
weathered the round.
In the fourth round Louis began running Galento's
face through a thrashing machine. He battered Tony
so badly that referee Arthur Donovan stopped the
slaughter at 2:29 of the round with only the ropes
keeping the blimp-like Galento up.
The following morning's newspaper quoted Galento
as saying, "He's not as good as they rate him. He
can't take a punch. I would have won. He pushed me
and I went down. They shouldn't have stopped the
fight."
He didn't speak about the 23 stitches needed to
close his wounds. He failed to mention that he was
hanging on the ropes like a jumble of sausages in
the window of Mario's delicatessen when referee
Donovan pulled Louis off him.
From there, everything went Chinese for Galento.
Although he gave Lou Nova the licking of his life
before stopping him in the 14th round, Galento,
himself took the worst beating he ever took in his
next two fights with the Baer brothers, Max and
Buddy. Max always said he got more pleasure out of
beating up Galento than he did winning the
heavyweight title from Primo Carnera in 1934.
Ray Arcel said Max Baer was a good-natured clown
who never disliked anyone, "..but he hated Galento
with a vengeance. He really wanted to kill him. In
the ring, the two of them were cursing so much,
people in the cheap seats could hear the most vile
obscenities."
Tony's face looked like a bag of plums when Max
stopped him in the 8th round in Jersey City on July
2, 1940. Brother Buddy stopped Galento in the 7th
round on April 8, 1941 in Washington. The fight was
as one-sided as an airliner crash. Small, dumpy,
Tony was no match for the towering 6-foot-6 Buddy
Baer.
Throughout 1942 Galento scrambled for a living,
refereeing wrestling matches and slugging it out
with the wrestlers to the delight of the crowd.
In 1943 he returned to the ring and knocked out
Herbie Katz in one round, then in 1944 he kayoed
Jack Suzek in Wichita. Finally, after a 15-career
and a 82-26-6 with 59 knockouts record, he quit.
He tried acting; he appeared as a thug along with
fellow Bum of the Month club members, Abe Simon and
Tami Mauriello in the Academy Award Winner, On the
Waterfront. And, like Jake LaMotta, he did stand-up
comedy. He even became friends with Joe Louis and
they appeared on TV together watching the film of
their age-old fight and commenting on the ballyhoo
with light-hearted good humor.
Louis told me, "Really, I got to like the
son-of-a-bitch. He had something these guys lack
today -- charisma. He could have taken most of these
fighters today and would have been a millionaire ten
times over. He was either born too soon or too late.
He was a throw back to John L. Sullivan. He would
have been a great bare-knuckle fighter. The man was
absolutely fearless."
Two Ton Tony Galento died on July 22, 1979 after
a three-year battle against diabetes that cost him
the amputation of a foot, then later both legs. We
kids who knew him better than anybody else while
growing up in Orange. We never got to know the gruff
Tony. We only saw the gentle, good-hearted and
happy-go-lucky side of the man.
Tony Galento is still my hero. I can still see
him rising from the rosin canvas, eager to absorb
more punishment. I can still hear him saying, "Next
time I'll moider da bum."
They didn't come any tougher than Tony Galento.
