Sunday, October 03, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

THE BOXING CAPITAL OF THE WORLD: Las Vegas: Fight Town

Muhammad Ali's bold prediction. Tommy Hearns and Sugar Ray Leonard. Mike Tyson bites Evander Holyfield's ear. The infamous "Fan Man." Oscar De La Hoya, shown during a September 2003 fight against Shane Mosley at the MGM Grand... ...and Muhammad Ali are two of the biggest stars in "Fight Town." George Foreman met Ron Lyle in 1976 in the first fight at the Caesars Palace pavilion. Famed trainer Johnny Tocco's gym has drawn stars such as Mike Tyson, Bernard Hopkins and Marvin Hagler. Lennox Lewis rocked Hasim Rahman during their November 2001 championship bout. Heavyweights like Evander Holyfield, left, and Riddick Bowe characterized the Las Vegas fight game during the 1990s.

ALL IN THE BEGINNING

The early Las Vegas fight promoters were a lot like their modern day counterparts -- either incurable optimists or downright liars. When light heavyweight champion Archie Moore moved up to the heavyweight division to fight Cuba's Nino Valdes in the first big name fight in the city's history on May 2, 1955, promoter Jack "Doc" Kearns claimed more than 14,000 people would watch outdoors at old Cashman Field, home of the city's semipro baseball team. Kearns went around to local hotels to line up money for a fight he told everyone would bring in $250,000.

Newspaper skeptics thought it was more likely the actual crowd would be half that size, and even they were a bit optimistic. In the end, about 6,000 people paid a reported -- and questionable -- $102,316 to watch Moore try for a win that would put him into a fight for the heavyweight title at age 41 against Rocky Marciano.

The fight was big and the crowd wasn't that bad, considering the town was little more than a few clusters of casinos and an Air Force base at the time.

But it wasn't the biggest thing in town. Over the weekend, Sam Snead and others were at the young Desert Inn golf course playing for a wheelbarrow of silver dollars in the Tournament of Champions. Many writers who came for the golf tournament -- the second richest in the world with a total purse of $37,500 -- would stay over another day to cover the fight.

About 70 miles north of Las Vegas, thousands of Army troops were camped out in the barren desert awaiting Operation Cue, the latest in a series of atomic bomb explosions set off above the Nevada Test Site. When the bomb detonated, their job was to storm ground zero in tanks and armored vehicles to test their readiness for atomic warfare.

Compared to that, boxing was a breeze. The bomb attached to a 500-foot tower at Yucca Flat was to have been exploded six days before the fight, but rain and winds kept postponing it. The town's hotels and motels, meanwhile, were full with an odd collection of bomb observers, military men, newsmen, fight fans and golfers.

Kearns had gone up and down the two-lane Strip to find backers for his fight, and proudly reported he had lined up an astounding $100,000 in guarantees from casino operators. "The hotels and Las Vegas businessmen are going right down the line with us," Kearns told the Las Vegas Review-Journal at the time.

Las Vegas Sun publisher Hank Greenspun wrote that the fight "is probably the greatest event for the town since the government started using the area for atom bomb tests."

The 15-rounder was an elimination fight with the winner getting a date with Marciano for the heavyweight title. Ringside tickets were $30, and you could sit in the bleachers for $5. Even better, the daily workouts in the weeks before the fight were free and several hundred people gathered every afternoon at the Silver Slipper and Moulin Rouge to watch. Moore had been favored since he got off an airplane at the city's tiny airport a month earlier.

The two boxers had met in St. Louis two years earlier and Moore won a unanimous decision, but Valdes was the bigger fighter at 209 pounds to 196 for the light heavyweight champion. There were rumors the 41-year-old Moore was suffering from a heart problem, though several doctors had cleared him to fight. Retired Review-Journal sports editor John Cahlan wrote an op-ed piece on April 10 advising Kearns to take the fight elsewhere. That brought a heated response from Greenspun, who was only too happy to fuel the city's increasingly bitter newspaper war with some vitriol of his own.

"If Mr. Cahlan's head was half as sound as Moore's heart he wouldn't be filling his lying newspaper with that sort of drivel," Greenspun wrote.

Three years earlier, Kearns had come to town to promote a fight between Moore and Joey Maxim for the light heavyweight title, but couldn't get local backers to put up the $150,000 guarantee and eventually moved the fight to St. Louis. Now, Kearns warned, "This is Las Vegas' first, last and only chance to become the sports capital of the world."

Las Vegas bought into the hype -- though there were probably as many empty seats as paying customers when the fight began about 6 p.m. on a damp spring day.

A brilliant sun was setting behind the baseball backstop at Cashman Field, and the wily Moore quickly maneuvered Valdes toward the center field portion of the ring.

As Valdes squinted into the setting sun, Moore hit him with three quick rights to the head that he never saw.

Moore, in the 170th fight of his career, landed heavy lefts to the head of Valdes, but Moore was bleeding from the nose and mouth and his right eye was swollen from the Cuban's jab. Valdes was in even worse shape, half blinded and desperately trying to hang on in the late rounds.

Moore came on strong in the final rounds, winning the last three on the scorecard of referee Jim Braddock, the former heavyweight champion, to take the fight by an 8-5-2 margin. "Valdes died in the last three rounds," Moore said.

It wasn't long before Las Vegas had its first boxing controversy.

Valdes staggered around the ropes in his corner and fell, dazed, when the decision was announced. He rose, grabbed a microphone and blurted in Spanish, "They don't want me to fight Rocky Marciano. I'm not good enough. I won the fight, but I can't fight Marciano."

Valdes then began crying, great sobs wracking his body. He reached his arms out to the crowd, as if imploring them to do something. Valdes fired "a salvo of Spanish," the Review-Journal reported.

A few fans hurled cushions, though mostly because a Las Vegas city policeman jumped into the ring and yelled, "Don't throw cushions."

New York comedian Al Schrenk, who was doing his bombastic best as the ring announcer, implored the crowd to stop throwing the cushions "lest you injure someone seriously."

Moore went on to fight Marciano for the heavyweight title four months later at Yankee Stadium. Moore knocked Marciano down, but was dropped five times himself before finally being stopped in the ninth round.

The Moore fight was the last big chance for Valdes, though he would be knocked out by Sonny Liston four years later.

Out on Yucca Flat, the bomb was finally detonated three days after the Moore-Valdes fight. The mushroom cloud rose high over the desert and could be seen from the very ballpark where Moore and Valdes had brought big-time boxing to town.

The explosion was called a success by scientists and military officials.

So was the fight, though it would be five years before big-time boxing would return to Las Vegas -- this time indoors, in the rotunda of the new Convention Center.

THE GREATEST

Even in a town filled with legends, he was The Greatest. Muhammad Ali wasn't just a star on fight night in Las Vegas. For weeks his training sessions at the Stardust or Caesars Palace were the hottest tickets in a town where stars like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. roamed the Strip.

As a 19-year-old Cassius Clay in 1961, he fought a Hawaiian giant named Duke Sabedong at the Convention Center, then proclaimed that he would indeed be The Greatest.

Two years later, he showed an early flair for the dramatic, heckling at ringside as Sonny Liston knocked out Floyd Patterson in the first round of the first heavyweight title fight in the city.

Liston was the feared champion, but Ali stole the show as he taunted Liston, then jumped into the ring afterwards to pretend he was going after him.

"Liston will fall in eight," Ali yelled out, holding up eight fingers. "I am the real champion." The act was real enough, but not everyone was convinced he could stand a chance against Liston.

"It appears Clay is the next up to be knocked out," a Review-Journal columnist wrote. "The fiasco, they say, will be held in Philadelphia on September 30."

Ali, of course, would go on to upset Liston in the seventh round in Miami Beach the next year, and boxing would never be the same. Ali fought eight times over a 19-year span in Las Vegas, an era that began with his youthful exuberance against Sabedong and ended on a sad note when Larry Holmes tormented the aging former champion for 10 rounds before the fight was finally stopped in the first outdoor arena at Caesars Palace.

But Ali made his mark in brighter days in a town that frowned on black people staying at Strip hotels when he first arrived.

It was in Las Vegas where he mastered the art of self-promotion, picking up some tips the night before his fight with Sabedong when he went to a wrestling event at the Convention Center featuring Gorgeous George and later mimicking his style.

It was in Las Vegas where he beat Floyd Patterson, then later took on the likes of Jerry Quarry, Ron Lyle and Joe Bugner at the Convention Center. And it was in Las Vegas where he lost his heavyweight title in one of boxing's biggest upsets to gap-toothed Leon Spinks.

SUGAR RAY

AND THE HIT MAN

It was a great time to be a fighter, and a magical time to be a fan. Sugar Ray Leonard was in his prime, and so was the Hit Man, Tommy Hearns. Marvelous Marvin Hagler kept knocking people out, and Roberto Duran was eager to fight them all.

It was the '80s, a time when welterweights and middleweights reigned and Las Vegas firmly staked its claim to being the boxing capital of the world.

At the center of it all was Caesars Palace, where fight nights always built in anticipation as the sun gradually went behind the mountains and the outdoor arena behind the hotel filled with celebrities, fight fans, gamblers and journalists.

Draped down the hotel's high rise was a giant American flag, which served as a backdrop as some of the greatest fighters in the world took the long walk from their dressing rooms through the crowd and into the ring.

It was there on September 16, 1981, when Leonard and Hearns stepped into the ring for the welterweight title in the most anticipated fight of the time. They didn't know it then, but their memorable bout would kick off a decade of big fights that didn't really end until Leonard and Hearns met a second time eight years later.

Hearns and Leonard had both fought in the hotel's tiny pavilion early in their careers. But the stage needed to be much bigger for the megafight between WBA welterweight champion Hearns and WBC titleholder Leonard.

In an outdoor stadium built atop the tennis courts at Caesars, they fought a brilliant duel that thrilled fans from the opening bell through the 14th round. The buildup to the fight had a bit of everything, and the fight turned out every bit as good, if not better. Leonard was America's fighter, the 1976 Olympic champion with the bright smile, quick wit and 7-Up commercials. He had lost only once, to Duran, a defeat he later came back to avenge in the infamous "No Mas" fight.

Hearns was the lanky welterweight with bird-like legs who packed a wallop in his right hand like no 147-pounder ever before. He was undefeated in 32 fights, had knocked out 30 opponents and seemed invincible.

The intensity built in the days leading up to the fight, and the boxing community was split. Could Leonard overcome the size differential and outbox Hearns or would the Hit Man catch the Sugar Man with a right hand that would end it all?

A crowd of 23,306 filled the outdoor arena, buzzing in anticipation of what was to come. Muhammad Ali was at ringside, along with Larry Holmes, Joe Frazier and Jake LaMotta. So was comedian George Carlin, Jack Nicholson, Bill Cosby and the Rev. Jesse Jackson. This was an event, and Hollywood and the boxing fraternity were there to see and be seen. They didn't have long to wait to find out they were in for a real show.

Leonard was cautious early, wary of Hearns' right hand. But it was the left jab from the 6-foot-1 Hearns that caused most of the damage as he won the early rounds by flicking it in Leonard's face.

Hearns was building up points, but the fight suddenly turned in the sixth round when Leonard became the big puncher. He landed a double left hook that staggered Hearns and in the next round he battered Hearns around the ring. Hearns was in so much trouble that his trainer, Emanuel Steward, briefly thought about stopping the fight. But he let it go on and now Hearns got on his bicycle, turning boxer and skipping around the ring peppering Leonard with left jabs and causing a big swelling under his left eye.

Hearns was winning the fight by outboxing Leonard instead of outpunching him. And it seemed there was little Leonard could do about it.

Leonard's eye was nearly swollen shut and Hearns was boxing circles around him. Leonard had his moments, but if Hearns could hold for a few final rounds the big showdown between two undefeated welterweight champions would go the Hit Man's way.

In the corner after the 12th round, trainer Angelo Dundee let his fighter know where he stood.

"You're blowing it, son. You're blowing it," he yelled at Leonard.

Across the ring, Steward was even more worried. His fighter was winning, but it had taken a toll.

"I was talking to Tommy and all of a sudden his head slumped down," Steward recalled. "He was out of gas. I knew right then it was over."

Hearns had overtrained and lost too much weight for the fight.

By now he had nothing left, and Leonard was digging deep into his reserve.

Leonard came on to turn the tide in the 13th round, then finished Hearns off with a flurry of punches on the ropes in the 14th that forced referee Davey Pearl to stop the fight.

Before an arena filled with overdressed high rollers, celebrities, hookers and their pimps and thousands of avid fans, Leonard and Hearns had put on a show for the ages. They fought an epic ebb-and-flow fight that ended as it did only because Leonard had something left when Hearns had expended his all.

It was magnificent, yet it was only the beginning of much more to come.