J Russell Peltz - Thirty Dollars and a Cut Eye

Copyright 2021 J Russell Peltz

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

BennieBriscoePhiladelphia, PA

ISBN: 978-1-7375696-0-2

Title: Thirty Dollars and a Cut Eye

Author: J Russell Peltz

Digital distribution | 2021

Paperback | 2021

Hardcover | 2021

Front cover: Referee John Fitzpatrick moves in to count over Wendell Newton, who has been knocked out by Leotis Martin in the seventh round of their 1969 heavyweight main event at the Blue Horizon. (From the Philadelphia Inquirer @ The Philadelphia Inquirer)

Back cover: J Russell Peltz hanging posters in North Philadelphia in March, 1971. (Mary Anne Seymour photo)

Published in the United States by New Book Authors Publishing

Dedication

For every man who ever strapped on the cup.

Foreword

I t was early October in 1969 when the phone rang in my barebones apartment. It was J Russell Peltz. Wed never spoken to each other before, but I knew what it was about.

I had attended his debut promotion, at the Blue Horizon, a week or so prior. It was everything a first-time promoter could have hoped fora record-setting crowd, a charged atmosphere and fun fights. Everybody went home early and happy after Bennie Briscoe brutalized Tito Marshall in the main event. Tito didnt last a round.

Caught up in the excitement of having a new promoter in town, I wrote Russell a letter, suggesting matches he should make in the future. He was calling to inform me that the matches Id recommended were between boxers in different weight classes. In other words, I didnt know what the hell I was talking about.

Even now, 50 years later, I still hear from him every time I get a fact wrong in a story or make a grammatical error. The worst part is that hes always right.

The phone call was the start of an enduring friendship. There is far more to the story than I can tell here. This is just snapshot, an effort to give some idea of what happened to two young men who met by happenstance and traveled different but parallel paths.

Boxing brought us together, but we soon discovered we shared other common interests, and it wasnt long before we began to socialize beyond the boxing scene. Believe it or not, Russell soon became an enthusiastic regular at wild parties my first wife and I threw.

We also hung out at the bar at the Society Hill Hotel, 3 rd and Chestnut Streets, where the drinks were cheap and the entertainment free and bizarre. The main attraction was broken-down country singer Ray Hatcher, billed as the Human Jukebox .

I had never been to a boxing gym until I started making the rounds with Russell. He had business to do and I was his sidekick, thrilled to suddenly have entree to the inner workings of boxing. It was the best education a struggling boxing writer could have.

We would invariably end up watching Briscoe train, first under the tutelage of Quenzell McCall at the 23rd PAL, and later with Georgie Benton at Joe Fraziers Gym. Everybody has a favorite fighter and Bennie was ours. Russell promoted and guided him for most of the second half of his career, including three world title shots. I was the star-struck hippie who tagged along for the ride.

Experiencing the Briscoe era up close was magical, gut-wrenching at times, but magical nonetheless. Despite his menacing appearance and uncompromising fighting style, Bennie was a friendly guy who never let success go to his head. He liked to tease Russell, pretending to be drunk, staggering down the street toward the gym, where the Boy Promoter was nervously awaiting his arrival. It was Runyonesque scoundrel Ben $$$ Greene who gave Russell the nickname, which stuck to him like flypaper, even after his hair turned gray.

Its the little things from that period I treasure the most, stuff you cant find in a record book, such as the time in 1972 when Russell turned up at my door at sunrise, looking like hed just walked away from a train wreck. Bennie had lost a decision to Luis Vinales the night before in Scranton that was supposed to be a tune-up. Russell couldnt sleep and needed a friend with whom to commiserate. The tables were turned when I broke up with my first wife, and Russell let me sleep on his couch for a few months.

Bummers were counterbalanced by joyful occasions. I remember attending Bennies victory party at a subterranean nightclub called The Cave , a few hours after hed stopped Art Hernandez at the Spectrum. Years later, Tony Thornton ( The Punching Postman ) had a Christmas party at his house, where the good times rolled late into the night.

In the early 1970s I worked for Russell as a ticket seller at the Philadelphia Arena, manning the same cockroach-infested box office where Id formerly purchased tickets. My pay was a fast-food lunch and a few bucks. I couldnt have been happier, but it didnt last long.

It was during this time that Russell was hired to be Director of Boxing at the Spectrum, one of the biggest breaks of his career. He took advantage of it, building one of the most successful boxing programs in the country.

With my box office gig gone, Russell suggested I become a manager so I bought pieces of Jerome Artis, Alfonso Hayman, Wade Hinnant, Leroy Jefferson and Fred Jenkins. It was fun for a while and I made a little money, but I wasnt cut out for the job. It just wasnt me. I sold Haymans contract, Jenkins quit and became a trainer, and I released the others.

By then I was The Ring s Philadelphia and Atlantic City correspondent, a position Russell helped me obtain. It was the beginning of my decades-long association with the venerable publication that didnt end until 2011.

Peltz time at the Spectrum, from December 1972 to March 1980, is considered the last golden age of Philadelphia boxing, and I had a ringside seat. Hanging out at the gyms with Russell allowed me to build relationships with many local boxers and out-of-town fighters, many of whom are now enshrined in the International Boxing Hall of Fame.

For a year or so when I wasnt working for The Ring , I did public relations for Peltz Boxing Promotions at the Blue Horizon and Harrahs Marina in Atlantic City. I quickly discovered that on fight night Russell is in a world of his own, so focused on doing his job, it is like he is in a trance. It is best to leave him alone.

When I published Boxing Babylon in 1990, Russell showed fight films at the book-launch party at Dirty Franks, Phillys beloved dive bar. Later, after I became editor-in-chief of The Ring a second time, Russell quipped that I was the only editor to regain the title.

We drifted apart socially for a few years. Work and our family consumed us. These days, however, we meet on a semi-regular basis when hes in town. Theres usually an abundance of laughter, but not always. Ill never forget one dinner we shared in early 2011. Bennie had died in December 2010, and as we sat across the table from each other that night, trying to hold back the tears, we talked about old times. It was then, more than ever, that I realized how close we are and how special the time weve shared has been.

Were in our 70s now with plaques on the wall in Canastota, still working and trying to keep doing what we love as long as we can. On this, Russells 50th anniversary as a promoter, the most important thing I have to say is thank you.

Nigel Collins

Introduction