I SUPPOSE
I am not the only one of a certain age (don’t ask) who longs for “the good old
days”. The days when there were only eight weight divisions and only one world
champion in each division and Ring Magazine effectively decided who was the
champion.
There
were no sanctioning bodies. Well, not really. The North American Boxing Association
was kicking about but no one paid any attention to them. Title fights were held
over 15 rounds and national titles were prized by fighters as second only to
world titles. Tobacco was the addictive substance of choice and if people heard
the word testosterone they probably thought it was the name of an Italian-American
baseball player. Happy days, right?
Maybe
not. Remove the rose-tinted spectacles and rub your eyes. Back in the 1950s and
early 1960s there was evil lurking at the very heart of boxing in America.
In the 1950s, America was boxing. Current major boxing nations such as Japan and Mexico played little part at world title level and horizontal was how the Americans described British heavyweights.
Madison Square Garden was the boxing equivalent of Mecca. Television was becoming a force through twice-weekly shows at the Garden and an organisation known as the International Boxing Club (IBC) headed by Jim Norris as President and his partner Arthur Wirtz was the most powerful outfit in boxing.
Businessmen
Norris and Wirtz formed the IBC in 1949 along with lawyer Truman Gibson and Joe
Louis, the world heavyweight champion who was plotting retirement. Norris, as
President and owner of 80 per cent of the stock, was the main man. He came from
a family that controlled the grain market in Chicago, he was involved in ice
hockey and horse racing and, best of all, he was filthy rich.
In 1949 an
ailing Mike Jacobs, through his Twentieth Century Boxing Club, owned the rights
to promote at the Garden but the venue bought those rights from Jacobs for
$100,000 and turned those rights over to their silent partner Norris, who had
exclusive leases on the Garden, Yankee Stadium, New York Polo grounds and other
stadiums in Chicago and St. Louis. So Norris had the stadiums but he needed
fighters to fill them.
The fledgling IBC saw the heavyweight title as an obvious target, but they were still finding their feet and did not “own” then champion Joe Louis. With the end of his career looming, and with the help of Gibson, Louis had moved to ensure himself of some post-retirement income by convincing the top four heavyweights Ezzard Charles, Jersey Joe Walcott, Lee Savold and Gus Lesnevich to give Louis exclusive rights to their services. One of the IBC’s first moves was to pay Louis $150,000 to retire and for him to also to assign to IBC the exclusive rights to Charles, Walcott, Savold and Lesnevich allowing the IBC to promote a tournament to fill the vacant heavyweight title and control the future of the heavyweight division.
IBC had the stadiums and the TV outlets and for the boxers they would need they turned to Frankie Carbo.
ENTER BAD FRANKIE
Since
the early 1940’s Frankie Carbo had been building his position of power acting along
with his No 2 Frank “Blinkey” Palermo as a promoter, matchmaker and undercover
manager for many top level fighters with Palermo bringing to the table Ike
Williams, Johnny Saxton, Clarence Henry and heavyweight Coley Wallace (who
would later portray Joe Louis in two films, 1953’s The Joe Louis Story
and Marciano, which was made in 1979).
Carbo himself
had his claws into most of the top lightweights, welterweights and
middleweights and was behind the notorious Billy Fox-Jake LaMotta fiasco where LaMotta
was stopped in four rounds by the vastly inferior Fox. Although LaMotta initially
denied the fight was fixed, he eventually admitted he threw the fight in return
for a promised shot at the middleweight title. This was just one example of the
power Carbo wielded.
Norris
and Carbo began to work together: The urbane Norris was the velvet glove to
Carbo’s iron fist. Frankie was unquestionably the power man out of the two.
To
obtain fighters, IBC used the commercial approach, which went something like, your
fighter will not get a title shot or appear on a big TV show unless we get exclusive
promotion rights and a share of your fighter. Carbo’s approach, usually channelled
through Palermo, was more physical. Sign with IBC and give us a piece of your
fighter or get hurt – and very few had the courage to withstand those threats
when the man behind them, Carbo, was a former member of the notorious organised
crime group, Murder Inc.
Naturally, some of those left out in the cold complained over the monopoly that the IBC had established and hinted at some dark forces with claims that Norris was just a front for Carbo. The influence of Carbo in owning fighters and fixing fights was known to much of the press but, such was his reputation, only hinted at. Some state commissions also knew, or at least strongly suspected, the power and presence of Carbo but shutting out the IBC would mean the loss of the huge windfall that big fights could generate for hotels, clubs and businesses in their cities and stadiums.
LAW BREAKERS
As early as 1952, the Department of Justice set up a jury to investigate the claims that the IBC and MSG were exercising an illegal monopoly, but action was stymied by the lawyers of the accused by claiming that professional boxing was not subject to the anti-trust laws as enshrined in the Sherman Antitrust Act. The IBC then pursued their case all the way to the US Supreme Court but finally lost in 1955 with Norris estimated to have incurred $500,000 in legal fees.
In the
same year, the New York State Athletic Commission decided to hold hearings into
the allegations of mobster’s involvement in boxing and called Norris to give
testimony.
When
questioned over his links to Carbo, Norris stated that his meetings with Carbo
were few, accidental and entirely unrelated to boxing. That was a flagrant lie;
even then, Carbo was using threats and actual violence to coerce boxers and managers
to do business with the IBC.
The
whispers of a criminally supported monopoly enjoyed by the IBC/MSG consortium grew
to a point where action was taken in a US District court in 1957 to challenge
the IBC’s monopoly. Norris had tried to forestall the case by resigning from
IBC which was then bought by MSG but the court was unconvinced and ruled that
through their control of the promotion of championship fights, and control of
major stadia, IBC constituted a monopoly. This was evidenced by the fact that
in the period from May 1953, and the case being heard in 1957, the IBC had an “interest”
in 36 of the 37 championships fights held in the United States. The judgement
limited the MSG for a period of five years from promoting more than two
championships bouts in each calendar year and also placed the same limitations
on Norris and Wirtz who were ordered to dispose of whatever stock they held in
MSG. The court also ordered that the IBC be disbanded and that the Garden and
other stadiums that had worked exclusively with the IBC must be leased for a
reasonable rent to independent promoters – effectively erasing one part of the
empire of evil that had reigned for so long.
That ruling
dealt with the IBC and MSG but what of Carbo? His undercover part in the IBC was
being uncovered and he was the next one in the court’s sights. For him the
beginning of the end came in 1958 when, to avoid a trial where the extent of
his role would become public, he pled guilty to the derisory charges of
managing boxers and acting as a matchmaker without a licence. He served two
years in Riker’s Island prison and was released in 1960.
Unfortunately
for Carbo, in the same year as he was released, a Senate Subcommittee led by
Senator Estes Kefauver had been set up to investigate ties between organised
crime and professional boxing and that turned the spotlight on Carbo. But
exactly who was this guy Carbo, often referred to as Mr Grey, who in turn was
being described as the Czar of Boxing?
CARBO’S
STORY
Paolo
Giovanni Carbo was born in Sicily on 10 August 1904. His family emigrated to
America and Carbo quickly settled into a life of crime being sent to a reform
school before he was even in his teens. He graduated from there to a variety of
street crimes and protection rackets. He committed his first murder when he was
20, killing a taxi driver who refused to pay off the organisation Carbo was
working for. Carbo pled not guilty and, in the end through plea bargaining, he
was sentenced to two to four years but was released after 20 months.
The
advent of prohibition boosted Carbo’s career and eventually he was recruited by
Murder Inc, who acted as enforcers for the Italian-American and Jewish Mafia,
and were suspected of over 500 contract killings. By the end of the 1930s Carbo
had been charged with more than eight murders but none of the charges stuck due
to the reluctance of witnesses to come forward. Not surprising, since after
Carbo was charged with the murder of Murder Inc. informant Harry Greenburg –
one of the former members of Murder Inc who had also agreed to testify against
Carbo – suspiciously fell to his death from a window of a hotel while under
police protection. Carbo was also a main suspect in the murder of Ben “Bugsy”
Siegel who had overseen the building of the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas for the
Mob.
With the
end of prohibition Carbo moved into boxing and the threats and coercion tactics
he had applied in every business he had been involved in worked well for him. The
extent of his influence only became apparent during Kefauver’s investigations.
The
testimony came from others as Carbo pled the Fifth Amendment i.e. the refusal
to incriminate himself (25 times, and Palermo did the same). The lid was lifted
by boxers and managers who felt with Norris stripped of any influence, and the
US Senate looking to nail Carbo, it was time to talk. And they did.
SPILLING
THE BEANS
Former
lightweight champion Ike Williams explained how Palermo had fleeced him of much
of his ring earnings. Another witness stated that Rocky Marciano’s manager Al
Weill refused to allow Harry Matthews, the top-rated heavyweight who had a long
unbeaten streak, a fight with Marciano until finally Carbo approved it. By then,
Matthews had been unbeaten for nine years, building a run of 51-0-1, but being
frozen out. Outstanding future middle weight champion Joey Giardello was
another fighter frozen out. Giardello always claimed that he would have
received a title shot much earlier if he had been managed by the mob but it was
not until he had had been a pro for 11 years, and had 106 fights, that he was allowed
to challenge for the middleweight title.
Carbo
once claimed he had controlled the welterweight division for 25 years. An
illustration was presented with regard to Johnny Saxton. A Carbo/Palmero
fighter, Saxton lost the welterweight title to Tony De Marco, another Carbo-owned
fighter. Palermo managed Saxton so, of course, there was a return bout clause.
However,
there was pressure within boxing for Carmen Basilio to get a title shot he
deserved, but was being denied. Even though Basilio was not owned by Carbo he
was given a title shot. Saxton was told to waive his right to the return bout with
De Marco and assured that he would get his title back. Basilio complicated
matters by beating De Marco to win the title and repeated the feat in a rematch.
Saxton got his promised chance and regained the title with a unanimous decision over Basilio. It was a result that was universally condemned, with two judges having Saxton winning by seven points. A promise kept, but the decision caused such a stink that this time it was Basilio who had to be given a return and, taking matters out of the bent judges’ hands, he beat Saxton inside the distance.
GETTING AWAY WITH IT
Top managers
such as Jack (Doc) Kearns, Lou Viscousi and Willie Ketchum all worked with the
IBC and Carbo. Typical of the deals was this: When Viscousi managed lightweight
champion Joe Brown Orlando Zuleta was approved to challenge him but the
promoter, a non-Carbo man, had to pay Carbo $5,000 for the privilege and if
Zuleta won, Viscousi would get a piece of Zuleta.
A St.
Louis police detective stated that Sonny Liston was owned by Carbo and others
with Liston’s manager John Vitale and Palermo each having a 12 per cent share,
two others, names still unknown, also having 12 per cent each and Carbo 52 per
cent.
Carbo
made decisions that affected the careers of Jake LaMotta, Willie Pep Tony
DeMarco and many many others. To get a title fight or fight on a TV card the
fighters needed the approval of Carbo and Norris and that approval was
conditionally on the fighter signing a long term exclusive contract with the
IBC so even if they slipped up and a non-Carbo fighter such as Basilio won the
title they still owned him through the IBC.
Incident
after incident was revealed where Carbo and Norris decided the fate of boxers
while sitting around a table at a restaurant just across the road from the
Garden. It emerged Norris climbed on the gravy train taking cuts and shares
from their dealings.
Due to illness, Norris was allowed to give his evidence to the Senate committee in private. Norris was forced to admit that the testimony he had given to the New York State Athletic Commission in 1955 about his “rare” meetings with Carbo was a lie. He could afford to do so as the statute of limitations on perjury was five years and the Senate hearings were held more than five years after he gave his testimony in New York. With the dissolution of the IBC, Norris was no longer involved in boxing but the revelations of his working relationship with Carbo seemed of little consequence.
Norris had been part of a consortium which purchased the Chicago Blackhawks in 1946 and was chairman of the team when the club won the Stanley Cup in 1961 leading to Norris being elected to the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1962.
He had suffered from heart trouble for some time and died in February 1966 when his reported net worth was $250 million. For context on his fortune, many of the fighters he screwed, like Ike Williams, died penniless. True to his IBC business practices, just before his death Norris arranged for a National Hockey League franchise to be awarded to St Louis even though no one from St Louis had applied for the franchise; Norris just happened to own the St. Louis Arena.
CARBO’S
END
The
Kefauver hearings did not finish Carbo. Carbo still owned the welterweight
title, which was now in the hands of Virgil Atkins. A proposal was made for
Atkins to defend against Don Jordan in December 1958. It looked a safe match
for Atkins as Jordan was in poor form.
Jordan
was managed by Californian Don Nesseth, who had no ties to Carbo and neither
did his advisor, Californian promoter Jackie Leonard.
Just to
cover themselves in case of an upset, Palermo contacted Leonard and Nesseth and
told them that Carbo wanted 50 per cent of Jordan or the fight would not go
ahead. Nesseth was reluctant to agree to this. Leonard was aware of Carbo’s
reputation, so he called Truman Gibson Jnr, who knew Carbo.
Gibson
advised Leonard to pretend to agree to the proposal but not to go through with
the deal. Leonard mentioned Carbo’s reputation, but Gibson assured Leonard that
the days of gangsters and enforcers were a thing of the past. Trusting Gibson’s
word, Leonard flew down to Florida and told Carbo it was a done deal. Jordan
won the title and Nesseth refused to sign Jordan over to Carbo.
An angry Carbo ranted over the telephone to Leonard saying, “Just because you are 2,000 miles away, that’s no sign I can’t have you taken care of.” Leonard was given police protection after his home was fire bombed. He then made the mistake of going out without his police protection. As he was closing his garage door, he was attacked with a piece of lead piping, beaten and hospitalised.
This was
one piece of brutality too far. The Californian State Commission and the Los
Angeles Police Intelligence unit decided to go after Carbo. It is not clear how
much success they might have had but, crucially, they had a powerful ally: The
FBI.
In
November 1957, outside the small town of Apalachin in New York, local and State
law forces had stumbled on a meeting of Mafia bosses from all over the USA. They
raided the meeting and more than 60 of the Mafia bosses had been detained and indicted.
Before this there had been some doubts as to whether there was a nationwide
criminal organisation. Now the FBI knew otherwise.
The FBI was looking to build on that success in Apalachin and Carbo was an obvious candidate. In 1961 Carbo, Palermo, Truman Gibson Jr and two of Carbo’s enforcers were arrested and charged with extortion and conspiracy against Don Jordan. Gibson was only charged with conspiracy his part in the affair being his assurances to Leonard that it was safe to dupe Carbo. With a young US Attorney General Robert Kennedy handling the prosecution Carbo was found guilty of the charges and sentenced to 25 years in prison and Palermo to 15. Carbo was initially incarcerated in Alcatraz but later switched to prisons in Washington State and then Illinois. He was eventually granted early parole due to ill health and died in Miami Beach in 1976. Palermo served just seven-and-a-half years. He returned to his previous base in Philadelphia and, for a while, it was rumoured that he had a share in the earnings of heavyweight title challenger Jimmy Young. Ultimately, he was never a force again and died in 1996 at the age of 91. The final chapter in the story of the attempt by Carbo and Norris to monopolise boxing.
The good old days? I don’t think so.