Standing on a downtown sidewalk before a door in an old brick building the sign reads above “Fat City Boxing Gym”. An Indian head above the sign gapes out onto American Street from the days when the building was a fraternal hall. Iriquois Tribe No. 35, says an old mosaic.

Through the door across a short stretch of filthy green carpet, up a flight of exhausted brown steps, in dim light, across a landing, up more squeaking steps to the second floor where a sign hangs on a yellowed wall,. Por Favor-Sera La Porta, turning left down a hallway which opens into a big, airy peeling room lined with boxing posters, and there, under the high, water-stained ceiling, it is; the ring/

This is that old ring’s story.

The Long Count

The ring is the “The Long Count Ring” from the mythic Tunney-Dempsey rematch of the 1927. In the 1920’s, savage Jack Dempsey, who fought like Mike Tyson on PCP, had been, along with Babe Ruth, the most dominating sports figure of his time. But he was over the hill. Younger Gene Tunney, a haughty, scientific “pugilist”, had beaten Dempsey in Philadelphia the year before.

Of the 145,000 fans that swarmed Chicago’s Soldier’s Field the night of Set. 22…plus 50 million on radio listeners…the majority were rooting for Dempsey. Word was Al Capone had bet $45,000 on Dempsey. Was the fix in?

Everybody was there: celebrities such as Charlie Chaplin, scribes like Damon Runyon, royalty such as Princess Xenia of Greece.

Working guys, molls, industrialists, pugs, mobsters; and the ring.

From the first bell, Tunney took command. Defending, feinting, pounding the worn-out Dempsey, he won the first 10 rounds.

In the 11th round, though, Dempsey counterpunched like Iron Mike, his right first. The blow connected. Stunned, Tunney reeled backwards. Weary Dempsey snapped to life. He closed for the kill. With a flurry of punches he smashed Tunney to the mat.

The crowd went nuts. The radio announcer shrieked, “…and Tunney is down! Tunney is down from a barrage of lefts and rights to the face!”

Dempsey had a bad reputation for battering his opponents as they got up. So the referee refused to start the 10-count on Tunney until Dempsey retreated to a neutral corner. The ref started the count…five counts late. The crowd roared foul.

On the count of nine, Tunney, clutching the rope, dragged himself to his feet.

He went on to beat Dempsey, who had nothing left.

Fat City Dreams

In 1930’s, a Stockton man, Norman Weinstein, traveled to Chicago, bought the ring, shipped it by rail to Stockton and installed it in Civic Memorial Auditorium. He staged fights to raise money for the Disabled American Veterans.

The ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s was a heyday of great boxing in Stockton. Fans came from miles around to pack the auditorium and see such fighters as Max Baer, Joe Louis, and Harry Armstrong. Even Dempsey himself fought an exhibition match in the ring.

Superb local boxers packed ‘em in, too

Old-timers say perhaps the greatest fight was between Stocktonians Jesse Flores and Tote Martinez, two skilled lightweights with heart who had fought gamely twice before to 10-round draws. Flores won.

“Those three fights, I wish I had tapes of ‘em. They were classics, “ sighed Jack Cruz, an old promoter.

Lodi big-time wrestler King Kong Cox, a villain, and Stockton wrestler Husky Bird both drew crowds to the ring. Gorgeous George wrestled there. Tag-team bouts, female wrestling, midget wrestling, all were held in that ring.

Alvaro “Yaqui” Lopez, the greatest light heavy never to become world champion, won the North American Championship from Jesse Burnett in that ring. “We have a good fight for the fans,” Lopez sniffed. “Not like the fights now. They fight for millions, and it’s over in a minute and a half.”

Henry Marquez, Jess Flores, Fred Hutchings, Yaqui Lopez; the ring was a launching pad from which they earned title fights. But all were defeated. How much heart that ring has held, how much blood has spattered its mat, how often that ring has witnessed the blinding end of a dream.

It is a dream, setting in Leonard Gardner’s classic book, “Fat City.”

The ring grew older and after the boxing commission de-commissioned the ring it was bought by the present owner who donated it to “Fat City Boxing Gym”.

Trainer Brent Gamble, who helped reassemble the ring, found evidence of past illegal fighting tactics. “When we unraveled this thing, I never seen so many busted smelling-salt containers in my life.”

As Gamble spoke, a sharply muscled man in trunks and boxing gloves shadowed boxed across the ring’s duct-taped mat; “Smooth” Rodney Jones, 17-2, owner of the North American Boxing Organization junior middleweight belt.

“My goal is to win a world championship.” Jones said.

…On lives the tradition of the Long Count Ring.

(story by Michael Fitzgerald)

* The ring was once again packed up and stored but in a quality facility as it awaits it's new owners. Help keep this piece of American & Boxing history alive.