When I reached the ring, I swung the mop and bucket through the ropes and then climbed through. Out came the rags. Out came the box of Grandma’s Lye Soap. Cassius looked stunned. He was quiet and confused, just like he’d been when I’d chided him about his Popeye arms in Louisville.
I knew full well how ridiculous I looked, but the stunt had the desired effect. Diles quickly instructed his cameraman to swing over to me before he stuck his microphone in my face. Naturally, I stayed in character. “Cautious Cassius backed out of fighting me,” I cackled, waving the letter of intent at the camera. “He’s chicken. How can he possibly be afraid of fighting someone like little ol’ me?”
My stunt was the lead item on all the TV sportscasts later that evening, and in the next day’s papers Clay danced around the questions by saying he wasn’t going to fight anybody—least of all “that dirty Chuvalo”—before his upcoming title shot against Liston in February.
My appearance in drag wasn’t the only excitement at the Big D that afternoon. While all the commotion was going on in the ring, somebody slipped into the dressing room and swiped Clay’s wallet. A handful of shady suspects who were hanging around the room were questioned, but the culprit was never found. I later found out that Cassius only had about $80 in his billfold, but he was furious that anyone would have the temerity to rob him. I guess he found out Detroit was a lot less friendly than Louisville.
(by George Chuvalo)
