Jeffrey Sussman - Rocky Graziano

Jeffrey Sussman

ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD

Lanham Boulder New York London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Sussman, Jeffrey, author.

Title: Rocky Graziano : fists, fame, and fortune / Jeffrey Sussman.

Description: Lanham, Maryland : Rowman & Littlefield, [2018] | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017035354 (print) | LCCN 2017047004 (ebook) | ISBN 9781538102626 (electronic) | ISBN 9781538102619 (hardback : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Graziano, Rocky, 19221990. | Boxers (Sports)United StatesBiography.

Classification: LCC GV1132.G62 (ebook) | LCC GV1132.G62 S87 2018 (print) | DDC 796.83092 [B] dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017035354

TM The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Printed in the United States of America

To my wife, Barbara

For his indefatigable assistance in locating magazine and newspaper articles, I am grateful to Steven Spataro, chief reference librarian of the East Hampton Library, an institution of almost unlimited resources.

For her confidence in my ability to continue writing a series of books about world-famous boxers and her incisive and helpful comments about the manuscript, I am indebted to my editor, Christen Karniski.

My wife Barbara read my manuscript and pointed out spelling errors that not even my spell-checker flagged. For her diligence, I am grateful.

Sheila Levine, one of publishings preeminent attorneys, provided me with invaluable and timely advice.

I am indebted to Rocky Grazianos autobiography, Somebody Up There Likes Me, for providing me with essential details of his childhood, his courtship with Norma Unger, and his numerous boxing matches, leading to the middleweight championship of the world.

In the cool dimness of St. Patricks Cathedral in New York City, I sat in a pew and waited for the funeral of Rocky Graziano, one of the most colorful boxing champions of the late 1940s and early 1950s. After having read his autobiography, Somebody Up There Likes Me, in 1955, I had made the Rock one of the heroes of my rebellious youth.

A few days before the funeral, I had read in the New York Times that the Rock had died of cardiopulmonary failure at New York Hospital. He was 71 years old. Memories of my youth came flooding back. I wanted to recapture the excitement I had felt as a 12-year-old.

I had been too young to see the Rocks fights, but I had been excited by not only his autobiography, but also the movie based on the book. During my aspiring delinquency when I was a teenager, the Rocks antiauthoritarian life stirred my admiration: While stationed at Fort Dix in the U.S. Army, Rock had flattened an officer with one punch, after the officer had challenged him. As a wild kid, he had spent time in Catholic protectories and reformatories with his boyhood pal, Jake LaMotta, aka the Raging Bull. Rocks father, Fighting Nick Bob, a failed boxer, had put the gloves on his sons tiny fists when the boy was barely out of diapers. He forced the toddler to box with his older brother Joey. Born into that young boys brain was the language of fists, of hard-hitting fists, of fists that knew no mercy. The young boys modus operandi was dont yell, dont argue, dont whine or complain: A punch ends with a strong exclamation mark. Your fist is your calling card. If you want it, you can punch your way to get it. If someone challenges you, a quick left jab followed by a hard right cross will deflate the challenge. That was the boy and the young man on the mean streets of the Lower East Side of New York City.

Yet, as he matured, he became a charming, friendly, and witty raconteur, beloved by everyone who knew him. He was generous to those in need, especially old boxers who lived on the edge of poverty. For example, one day at Stillmans Gym, located at Eighth Avenue and 49 Street, Rocky spotted a former fighter, still young but now blind, for whom Stillmans Gym had become a place for nostalgic reminiscing. The man was unable to make a living. Rocky took up a collection from other boxers, as well as trainers and managers who would congregate at the gym, his big-boned hands wrapped around mostly 10s, 20s, and a few 50s. After someone would offer $10 or $20, Rocky would ask if they could do a little better, give a little more to help out one of their own. He strode over to the former fighter and stuffed the bills into the mans breast pocket. He told him to come back to the gym every month.