- The Final Installment -

By Zachary Levin

ZL: Who are some of the trainers working today that you’re impressed with?

GC: Well, Freddie Roach is doing a good job. (pause) Teddy Atlas.

ZL: Is the role of the trainer ever overstated?

GC: No—if they’re good trainers. Some guys have their uncle training them or whatever the hell else. And they don’t even know what to do, they don’t even know how to put the gloves on—they’re “the trainer.”

ZL: How common is it to have fantastic trainers on the amateur level, guys who develop fighters from scratch, teach them everything they need to know? But the fighters inevitably get stolen away by a big promoter, who then gives them to a “name” trainer.

GC: Yeah, that’s what happens ALL the time, from the beginning of time.

ZL: A classic scenario in boxing, huh?

GC: Usually the first guy, the guy that got him in the amateurs, had him win the Golden Gloves or the Nationals, that’s the guy who’s really doing the training. Then if they turn pro with some other trainer that’s got a reputation…it’s not the same thing.

ZL: Who are some of the best boxing minds that you’ve come across, other than yourself? Any people that ever astounded you with their insights into the game, or had a rare ability to see things others didn’t?

GC: Well, Ray Arcel…he was great, he really was. He knew his way around. Maybe Teddy Atlas.

ZL: Oh, really

GC: Yeah.

ZL: Atlas seems to be focusing more on broadcasting than working with fighters these days. Do you enjoy his fight analysis?

GC: Yeah, he’s okay.

ZL: Your fight analysis for CBS and HBO was top-notch. When you watch Atlas do his thing now on “Friday Night Fights,” do you ever find yourself thinking, ‘I’d have called that one differently,’ or ‘I’d have pointed this out’?

GC: No, I wouldn’t say that.

ZL: When you worked opposite a great cornerman, were you in a sense dueling him? Like when Ray Arcel came out of retirement to work with Duran who fought your guy Buchanan. Was it ever like playing chess, with the boxers being the pieces?

GC: No. I would take care of my own guy, and whatever the other guy did we would try to do something to counteract it. I never paid too much attention to who was training the other guy.

ZL: I know you’ve spoken on this before, but I wanted to ask you about the third fight between Emile Griffith and Benny “Kid” Paret (March 24, 1962). How difficult was it for the both of you to come back to boxing after a tragedy like that? (Paret fell into a coma and died ten days later of injuries sustained during the bout, which was the first ring death seen by millions on American national television.)

GC: Well, it was very difficult because of what happened. And Emile, you know, was devastated by the whole thing. …We used to have a lot of over-the-weight fights in those days, if a championship wasn’t at stake. But I knew if I put him in that kind of fight, he wasn’t going to perform at all. So I put him in a title fight in his next fight (against Ralph Dupas). After that Paret thing, he wouldn’t really go after the guy until the guy hit him a couple of times, and then he’d start to fight.

ZL: So when something like this happens, a guy does lose his killer instinct, so to speak?

GC: I think so, yeah.

ZL: You also believe that Paret calling Griffith a “maricon” (homosexual) before the fight played no part in the events that followed?

GC: Absolutely not! Absolutely not!

ZL: Rather, you feel it just came down to Griffith throwing so many punches, in such a short period of time, and the referee not breaking it up soon enough?

GC: Well, Emile hit him with 17 punches in 5 seconds.

ZL: Ruben “Hurricane” Carter stopped Griffith in one round, was Carter that ferocious a puncher?

GC: No! It’s all Em`ile. I told Emile, ‘Just box this guy for about 5 rounds, and then after that you’ll own him.’ Meanwhile, Emile met Rocky Graziano on a street corner (before the fight), and Rocky says to him, ‘Hey, Emile, knock this guy right out.’ (laughs) Emile went after Carter in the 1st round, and Carter nailed him on the side of the head; he went down, he got up; and he was actually marching towards Carter when the referee stopped it. And I was glad the referee stopped it. There’s no sense…he would’ve taken an awful lot of punishment for the next minute and a half.

ZL: Moving on, I’d like to learn more about your background and what led you to boxing. Where did you grow up?

GC: Rockaway Beach (Long Island, NY).

ZL: What’d your parents do? What kind of childhood did you have?

GC: My father was a sign painter and my mother was a housewife. I played every sport.

ZL: When did you find boxing?

GC: I went in the Army first, and when I came out of the Army I went to NYU and studied Phys. Ed (earning a master’s degree). Boxing was part of the program. So I was involved in that. And the PAL must have called me, the job placement center, and they were looking for a boxing coach. They called me down to see if I’d take the job. Started out at a $1000 a year. South Jamaica (Queens), an all-black neighborhood. (laughs) I didn’t even have a car!

ZL: Were you accepted over there?

GC: Oh, yeah. Sure.

ZL: Was it always comfortable for you to mix with other cultures and people from different backgrounds?

GC: I never had a problem. I never had a problem with blacks or any other ethnic group.

ZL: So you were never a fighter yourself?

GC: No.

ZL: Was that a disadvantage?

GC: Well, when I say never, I did box in the Army.

ZL: How many fights did you have in the Army?

GC: Maybe four or five.

ZL: What weight did you fight at?

GC: Middleweight.

ZL: Were you okay?

GC: Oh, yeah, I was good.

ZL: You didn’t have some hunger to go pro?

GC: No. I lost one fight to a light heavyweight. The one fight I lost.

ZL: Was fighting especially difficult for you? I know your left eye is impaired. (When he was three, a sliver of steel got caught in his left eye. He can see fine out of the side of the eye.)

GC: No, it didn’t bother me. It just seemed natural.

ZL: When you taught school, were you strictly a Phys. Ed. teacher?

GC: I taught everything. History…math.

ZL: Had you always wanted to be a teacher of some kind?

GC: When I graduated from NYU, I did it mostly because of the economy—to make a buck. That’s really why I went into it. Then I enjoyed it.

ZL: Did you have designs at that time on a career in boxing as a trainer/manager?

GC: Ahh…let me think about it…well, I told you, I took that job at the PAL. I was taking it for the money, believe it or not, $1000 a year! Of course, right from the very beginning, I was bitten by the boxing bug.

ZL: How were you as a trainer when you were started out?

GC: I think I did well. Cause I told you, I had Tiger Jones. He was my best guy. Then later on in the amateurs I had…every single year, for about maybe five or six years, I had a couple Golden Gloves champs.

ZL: Were you a big fight fan growing up?

GC: Well, my father was. My father was involved in boxing a little bit. I used to listen to it on the radio.

ZL: Do you think you have natural ability as a trainer and teacher?

GC: I guess so.

ZL: Were there certain boxers or trainers that you gleaned things from?

GC: I guess there was, but it’s hard to think of any one in particular.

ZL: Is it more satisfying to take a fighter from the beginning, from scratch, and take him along?

GC: Absolutely. There’s no question about that. Most of my guys, I took all the way. Sometimes, the amateur coach develops a kid, then they turn pro and are turned over to one of the well-known trainers. But it’s actually the amateur guy that taught the kid how to fight.

ZL: Did you have some good amateur fighters that were taken away from you, because you weren’t successful enough at the time?

GC: Ahh…I guess I did have a few leave.

ZL: Any names you care to mention?

GC: Eddie James. He was the outstanding fighter of the Golden Gloves. I gave him away. There were about four or five others.

ZL: Painful when that happens?

GC: Sure!

ZL: How did you land Rodrigo Valdes?

GC: He came from Columbia. And Oscar Conill—who has passed away—I had sent him on a scouting trip, believe it or not. He came back to me and said, ‘I like this kid Valdes.’ He weighed about 142 when he came up, couldn’t speak a word of English, and he was half starving to death. I put him with my friend Chino’s wife—Chino Govin, he was a trainer. Rodrigo lived with Chino. Eventually, he wound up being the middleweight champion of the world.

ZL: And so the fighters you worked with that were already established, or that you didn’t have a hand in from early on, did it feel more like a gig with them?

GC: No, no. Like with Valdes, I was just as close to him. I felt like I had poured a lot of stuff in him. And it all worked out. With him it was like I was taking him from the beginning, even though he’d had amateur fights down in Columbia, no pro fights.

ZL: Are the fighters today as well conditioned as they used to be?

GC: I don’t think so, no.

ZL: What’s missing?

GC: Their attitude, their hard work ethic—I don’t think a lot of them have it anymore. Back 20 years ago, 30 years ago, these kids, they’d work all day on tough jobs, then come in and train…spar 10, 12, 15 rounds. Nowadays, these kids, after 4 rounds they’re tired.

ZL: If you were working with a kid today, would you do the same things with him now as you did in 1955?

GC: No, I might include a little weight training. And as far as nutrition goes, I was always trying to get them to eat the right stuff at the right time.

ZL: Some trainers don’t make good cornermen, and vice versa. Have you found that to be the case? It’s a certain gift to be able to give the right advice at crucial moments?

GC: No question about it. Some guys get so excited, the fighter can’t even understand him. Or when two or three guys talk at the same time, it should never be like that. One guy should do the talking, the other guys don’t say a word.

ZL: You said earlier that you were always as cool as a cucumber.

GC: Well, the one time I slapped Emile, he knocked out Paret. But I knew what I was doing, believe me.

ZL: When you slapped Emile, that was effective. You got him to do what you needed him to do. Was that premeditated or spontaneous?

GC: I slapped him because…they give you a vacant stare look. They’re not even hearing what you’re saying. I just had to bring him out of it.

ZL: What are some of the qualities you look for in a prospective fighter when you’re evaluating him?

GC: Natural athletic ability is number. And number two is, do they like the job, do they like the work? If they’re haphazard, those are the kind of kids that never really make it.

ZL: How important is it for a kid to be able to respond well to punishment? Not “well,” no one likes to get hit, but…

GC: That’s very important, very important. For example, listen, Salita was in his first 8-round fight, and he fighting an experienced guy (Rocky Martinez). The guy nailed him a few times, but every single time the guy nailed him, he punched right back and took the play away from him. Immediately! That’s one of the things you look for.

ZL: Is that psychological makeup, or is it a matter of being in great condition?

GC: No, I think it’s psychological makeup.

ZL: And you can’t always see it at the gym?

GC: No, you can’t.

ZL: I wanted to ask you about a heavyweight that I’ve always found intriguing, Sonny Liston. I don’t believe you worked with him, but did you know him at all?

GC: No, just hello and goodbye.

ZL: Was he as scary a man as they say he was?

GC: Oh, sure. Everyone was scared to death of him. He always gave you that baleful look, no matter what. He was suspicious of everybody.

ZL: I heard from an old timer that when a boxing gym got wind Liston was coming through town, they take down their good equipment and put up the ratty stuff, cause he’d literally beat the stuffing out of it. Any truth to this?

GC: I don’t believe it, no.

ZL: Too bad, I’d always liked that story—it made me think of a little defenseless town bracing itself before a hurricane struck…. Here’s something I’ve been looking forward to asking you about: the Liston-Ali fights. They fought twice. It’s a subject of much debate. Was there a fix? (In the second bout, the more controversial of the two, Ali knocked Liston out in 1 round with a short right hand—it was so short, almost no one saw it; Ali called it “the anchor punch.”)

GC: No. In the second fight, Ali really hit him. One my fighters, Alex Miteff, fought Ali. Miteff was a tough, tough guy from Argentina. And he was really doing a pretty good job on Ali’s body. All of a sudden, Ali just hit him with a little right hand: down and out for ten. Ten! Just caught him right.

ZL: I’ve heard that Liston bet on himself to lose?

GC: You’ll always hear that kind of crap.

ZL: The Liston that Ali fought was pretty shopworn. He wasn’t the same fighter he once was, right?

GC: No, he was still a pretty tough guy.

ZL: In 1978, you became the matchmaker for Madison Square Garden, and held that position for three years. Tell me about the experience? Did you enjoy it?

GC: Well, it was a tough job, I’ll tell you that. I joke about it: it was the only time I ever had high blood pressure, cause I had to deal with (Mike) Jones and (Dennis) Rappaport. They had Gerry Cooney. They were pretty terrible. But it was a tough job. Somebody wins every fight, and somebody also loses. And the losers are always angry at you, and the winners are always for you.

ZL: In what way were Jones and Rappaport difficult to deal with?

GC: Oh, no matter what you offered them…let’s say I was doing them a favor. I’d normally pay $5,000 for a main bout, or whatever it is. And I’d say, ‘Look, I’m going to give you $7,500.’ And I figured they only expected 5K. The very next word out of their mouth would be, ‘What about my training expenses? And how many free tickets do we get?’ (laughs) You know, stuff like that. You could never satisfy them. Never.

ZL: What was your relationship like with Teddy Brenner? (Brenner was a former matchmaker for MSG, among other major venues, and was perhaps the best-known matchmaker in boxing history.)

GC: Oh, a very close relationship.

ZL: When you were serving as a matchmaker, what was your goal, what did your job entail?

GC: Make the best fights for the fans, and bring the asses into the seats.

ZL: Was it an odd experience working as a matchmaker, in that when you were training and managing fighters your number one priority was your fighter—giving him a fight he’s going to win and, secondly, have him look good doing it? When you’re a matchmaker, you must be dispassionate, neutral.

GC: Also, you want the popular guy to win, the guy that’s going to sell the tickets. So, you know, you try to give him a little edge in the fight if you possibly can.

ZL: What were some of the biggest fights that you made while you were working for the Garden?

GC: Cooney-Norton.

ZL: How did you expect that fight to go? (Gerry Cooney obliterated Ken Norton in 1 round (May 11, 1981), setting the stage for a mega fight with Larry Holmes the following year.)

GC: I thought Cooney would knock him out. I didn’t think it would happen that fast.

ZL: In 1981, you became a boxing analyst for CBS. Many fight fans, and I count myself among them, consider you one the best that’s ever done it.

GC: Thanks.

ZL: Did you take to it easily?

GC: Well, the way it happened, I was at a cocktail party with Angelo (Dundee). And Barry Frank was there. He was the president of CBS Sports. And we always used to joke around, Angelo and I. So Barry Frank says, ‘Could you guys do that on the air?’ I say, “Sure.’ The next week we were on the air from Italy. And that’s what started it. I don’t think I ever was nervous with it or anything. It was just watching the fight and talking about it.

ZL: Who did you enjoy working with?

GC: Well, Tim Ryan (CBS), naturally. Sam Rosen (MSG; they do the New York Daily News Golden Gloves together). I like Sam a lot.

ZL: Howard Cosell made for great TV…didn’t really know boxing too well, did he?

GC: He really did not know boxing. Alex Wallau was the guy who used to give him all the information before a fight, tell him who to tout. Once Alex told Cosell something, it became gospel with him, and he’d be saying, ‘Look at this, look at that!’ He didn’t know boxing too much at all.

ZL: Rest assured, no one will ever accuse Gil Clancy of that.

PART - 1  PART- 2   PART - 3  PART - 4

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