Stillman's
Following is a piece forwarded to CBS from friend of the page Charlie Norkus Jr which gives a brief insight into, and around, everyday life in the classic Stillman's Gym, New York, in 1957.
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Stillman's Gymnasium at 919 Eighth Ave., New York City, is probably the best known institution for the training of professional practitioners in the Manly Art of Modified Murder in the world today. With good reason, it is called the "Eighth Avenue University" by the New Yorker's A. J. Leibling, one of the wisest boxing writers today.
Honolulu boasts two colleges where similar instruction is offered — the Hawaiian Pine College, where Stan Harrington is at the head of his class and his manager Ted Kawamura is something like president and maybe dean of men combined, and the Armory College, where many visiting professors, such as Ramon Fuentes, hold forth from time to time.
We had not paid a visit to Stillman's university for about 10 years, tout when we dropped in one day this week at noon we found very little change. The bare beams that hold up the roof of the ancient structure and the scarred dark walls look as though they have not had a coat of paint since our last visit, or for that matter since our first, about the same year "Tobacco Road" was starting its long run on Broadway.
But if you're inclined toward such matters, you'll notice that something of the culture of Stillman's, and to an even greater degree that of Madison Square Garden four blocks down the avenue, has permeated the area. From 49th St. to 55th, along Fee Avenue, there are many signs of the cauliflower industry. Two bars in the area are Mickey Walker's "Toy Bulldog" saloon, in which we understand the former Bulldog no longer has a financial interest, and the "Neutral Corner," where Lou Stillman holds forth in the afternoon between noon and evening seminars at the gymnasium. Then there's the Ring Magazine office on 49th St.
Pets for Fighter
Not so easily recognizable by the uninitiate, but just as closely related to the fight game as the pictures of pugs in the store windows, are two pet shops in the same block as Stillman's, one of them next door to the entrance. There you can buy a nondescript pup, or black racer snake for $5, or a monkey for considerably more. You can also buy a white mouse for considerably less. The old fad among fighters, for having pets has come back and the rating and opulence of a young battler is judged among his fellows, to some extent, by the kind of pet he -keeps. It would take someone who gets TV fights pretty often, for instance, to afford the upkeep of a good sized monkey, together with paying for the wreckage he might cause, but nearly any preliminary boy could maintain a white mouse in the style to which it is accustomed, if Although it is now in revival, there is nothing new about the fad among fighters, the most famous pet, perhaps, being the "tame" lion kept by Rudy Robert Fitzsimmons, when the Australian was heavyweight and he also liked to scare the daylights out of unsuspecting sports writers by turning him loose among them without any advance notice.
Workouts at Stillman's come twice daily, at 12 noon, lasting till about 2:30 p.m., and at 5 p.m. until about 7 p.m. The second seminar is held largely for fighters who have daytime jobs such as longshoring or trucking, and come in for their instruction and training after work.
Part Time Fighter
This category includes a good many able scrappers. For instance, Jimmy Archer, a favorite at St. Nick's Arena, said to be the oldest boxing club in America, is a longshoreman and the dockers turn out en masse to see him. Two of his recent battles have been close decisions over Tony Decola, who was a warehouseman in Brooklyn until recently when he moved to California. Both these are welterweights and both look like able opposition for Stan Harrington, any time Honolulu promoter feel like bringing them.
We attended, a noon workout, that being the time most of the "names" appear, and found a fair complement of practitioners present. There was Johnny Bus-so of Brooklyn, presently ranked ninth among the lightweights. There was Lulu Perez, also of Brooklyn, who was ranked near the top a year or so ago, and there was Charlie Norkus, a heavyweight who upset several promising title hopes a couple of years ago and who seems to have gone to fat somewhat since being dropped from the national ratings.
Also present was tall, ascetic-looking Eddie (Pigeon) Lynch, a lightweight who has no national rating, but whose appearances at St. Nick's have occasioned much excitement. The furor over Lynch is not. altogether because of the boxing, though Lynch has proved an eager mixer, but because his many followers from the West by turning loose pigeons all over Side celebrate his appearances the place. Lynch, you see is a pigeon-fancier.
At the last Lynch showing, the police department and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals turned out in full force after warning Lynchs followers someone would get pinched if any pigeons were turned loose. None were, but the hoots and catcalls caused almost as much disturbance as the pigeons. Began in Tenements Pigeon-owning and flying, it should be explained, is not related to the current fad among fighters for pets, but rises rather from New York's tenement district where rooftops afforded the only space for entertainment. Some of New York's livelier element, such as "Owney the Killer." Madden, once top man in the underworld, have been pigeon-fanciers.
This day, however, Eddie Lynch confined his activities to shadow-boxing with a bathrobe on and punching the bags in the back room. He is recovering from an attack of the Asian flu, and anyhow, Stillman's is a very chilly place this time of year. One doubts that they bother to turn on any heat until, there's maybe a foot of snow being scraped off the New York streets.
The boys at Armory and Hawaiian Pine Colleges don't know how good they have it by comparison. The management at Stillman's operates a loudspeaker system spasmodically toy which it informs casual customers, such as your correspondent, who pay 50 ' cents to watch the workouts, just who's fighting whom in which of the two rings. But even without the speaker, it would be fairly easy to tell who the "names" are.
Novices Work Hardest
As for years past, fighters who are well known or rated nation-ally conduct a sort of running horseplay with Lou Stillman and the other old-timers, while a boy whose shirt proclaims him a winner of the "Kansas City Star Golden Gloves," sticks earnestly to the business of shadow-boxing, doing weird calisthenics and waiting his turn in the ring.
Once they're inside the ring, the recognized practitioners work with a maximum of skill and a minimum of violence. Usually, though not always, they are treated with much respect by their sparring/partners. Charlie Norkus went three rounds with a square-built Negro and the exertion and punishment were hardly more than one would get from shadow-boxing.
Johnny Busso took it nice and easy with Harry Bell, a boy who has fought a few main events, concentrating largely on a long left hook and short combinations to the body.
But two long-limbed unknowns from Harlem Tattled each other with such punches that the horseplay with Lou Stillman stopped for the moment and, everyone watched. Nobody went down, however, and when the gong sounded, the two tapped each other in a show of good will as they climbed out of the ring.
At 2:30, Lou Stillman left the place for his assistants to lock up and stopped in at the "Neutral Corner" to regade an audience with how he introduced Jack Demp-sey to his best trainer, "Jerry the Greek."
(By Edward Rohrbough - Honolulu Record)
