By John Cameron: The following is an excerpt (originally entitled Goodbye Uncle Sam)from the definitive biography of Rocky Marciano entitled; Redemption: The Life & Death of Rocky Marciano, preceding this excerpt are chapters dealing with Marciano’s time in the Army in which he served in the 350th Combat Engineers whilst stationed in Wales, here he began to fight, both in the ring and out. The chapters followed him home to Brockton where he fought, and lost by disqualification, to one Henry Lester when badly out of condition, he swore he would never enter the ring again in such a sate.
chapter eight: Marciano in 1946
“Our generation – the ones who survived of were spared – have spent the rest of our lives trying to make every last minute count one way or another. It was the deal we struck privately to keep our sanity and honour those who didn’t make it.” – Dr. Jack Matthews
With his tail proverbially between his legs, at least on the outside, Marchegiano returned to Fort Lewis to serve out his remaining year, but even his journey back would not be without incident.
Using his influence at Westover where he was placed in command of flight scheduling, Allie Colombo had managed to wrangle his friend a free ride on a plane heading for Washington State, this not only allowed Rocco to spend an extra couple of days at home, but also allowed him to cash in his travel allowance when he arrived back at base. All though did not go to plan, for when the plane touched down on a stop-over in Kansas City, Rocco was unceremoniously bumped off his flight by an officer who needed the seat for himself, fortunately Marchegiano found himself another route to carry him back to Fort Lewis. Meanwhile, Allie, firmly ensconced back at Westover Air Force base was oblivious to the unfolding events when he discovered that the plane he believed his buddy to be on had begun to experience difficulty, as author Everet M. Skehan in his own work would recount Colombo recalling; “The reports kept coming in that the plane was in trouble, I kept thinking, ‘Holy Christ I’ve killed Rocky’. I couldn’t believe it. They kept saying the plane was in trouble and would probably have to try a forced landing.”
The incident thankfully passed with-out fatality, Allie was amazed when he contacted Rocco shortly afterward only to be informed that he had been completely unaware of how proceedings in his absence unfolded; it was however to be a strange omen of future events.
Safely ensconced back at Fort Lewis, Marchegiano re-entered the amateur boxing and baseball program’s, and to add to his growing sporting resume he became the sometime sparring partner of an aspiring heavyweight from Washington; as journalist Dan Walton recounted to author John D. McCallum:
“Harold Bird, the local businessman who was a great booster of boxers in our area, had been talked into taking over a good-looking young giant named Big Bill Little. Big Bill had dreams of becoming the heavyweight champion.
“Bird was tutoring his protégé in Homer Amundsen’s gym in Tacoma one day when in walked a stocky GI from Fort Lewis who says he’s a fighter and is willing to work out with Big Bill. When he gets his tights on and with those short arms, hairy chest and waddling style, he makes Harold think of a bear. Anyway, Big Bill stood 6-5 and weighed 225. He was pretty fast for a big guy and was in excellent condition. The soldier looked to be about 5-9 and weighed around 180. He was hog fat.
“Well, they worked a couple of rounds and Big Bill didn’t even work up a dewy sweat. The GI from Fort Lewis didn’t back up though, and he took some good cuts at his towering opponent, but with his stubby arms he didn’t even come close to tagging the big guy.
“After the workout, Bird handed the soldier $8 and he was happy. Bird told him to come back the next day, but for some reason or other he never showed up-and that was the last that Harold Bird saw of Rocky Marciano.”
After he had ascended the heavyweight throne the then champion reflected back, “Yes, that’s all true. I was in the Army out near Tacoma and one day a notice came to the camp that sparring partners were wanted at this Tacoma gym and anybody could reply. I was flat broke, so the next day I went in there, and they put me in against this giant who must have been seven-feet-tall. I don’t think I even came close to hitting him. They asked me how much I wanted so I mentioned two-dollars a round would be ok, so they gave me four-dollars. I really was rich then.
“When I was out in Tacoma the last time I asked Harold Bird whatever happened to Big Bill, and I told him I thought he had a champion. Bird admitted he thought he had one too, and told me about his sad awakening. One day Big Bill got hit on the lug and it was curtains, and although he was big enough and game enough his chin just wasn’t made to take punches. Bird made him quit fighting.”
Big Bill did indeed “quit fighting”, yet he walked away with an impressive record of only two defeats in some forty-eight fights, all this was explained in an interview he gave in 1964 whilst appearing at the New York World’s Fair in the guise of the giant mythical American archetype, Paul Bunyan. Whilst reminiscing about his past he took time to reflect on his brief meeting with Marchegiano some eighteen years earlier.
“Rocky was still fighting amateur at the time and no one really ever heard of him in the Northwest. But he impressed me immediately as soon as we climbed into the ring. Here was a man half my size by comparison, who showed absolutely no fear and gallons of guts. It was easy to see he came to fight.”
Between May and early August Pfc. Rocco Marchegiano would participate in five official inter-service bouts, winning four (three by kayo) and losing one, before being picked, under the tutelage of lieutenant George ‘Bud’ Hansen, and master sergeant Alexander Hendricks, for the Amateur Athletic Union’s Junior National finals in Portland, Oregon.
Rocco’s inclusion in the tourney after such a seemingly inexperienced campaign was due in part to one Herman DeVault, then a member of the Oregon AAU boxing committee who had made a trip to Fort Lewis to see the champion Joe Louis in yet another exhibition and happened upon this, in his own words, “…awkward kid, he won his fights with one-punch left-hand roundhouse knockout swings -after clowning on the ropes, sticking out his chin and letting the other fellow hit it.”
Still he was impressed enough to recommend this “clown” be a representative of the impressive Fort Lewis squad, for Marchegiano, the only heavyweight from amongst some eleven fighters was, on paper at least, by far the least experienced in a team made up of former Golden Glove winners, plus one featherweight by the name of Sammy Buttera who had competed in no-less than 105 amateur bouts, losing only two.
The tournament itself was to be held over three days beginning Wednesday August 21st, and culminating on the 23rd, this however would bring forth an unforeseen decision for Marchegiano, one that he never dreamt he would be forced to make, namely, at the same time, his beloved baseball team upon which he had proved popular at first base, had qualified to play in the A.A.U finals held in Tacoma, Washington, he wrestled with the final verdict for awhile before making his decision.
“I decided to go to Portland. It was the first time I’d ever picked boxing over baseball when I had a choice.”
Many believe that the championships in Portland, held upon the sight of a former Chinese vegetable garden but by now transformed into the impressive oval shaped Multnomah civic stadium, an outdoor arena (the first time such an event had been staged in the open air) to be the best represented tournament in AAU history, there were to be well over one-hundred boxers representing both the services and private clubs from as far a field as Texas to Canada. In order to reach the final and be crowned champion of their respective division, each competitor, some of whom had begun arriving the previous Saturday, had to take part in five bouts over the three days of the competition, one on the first day, two on the second, and two on the third, Rocco would only take part in three.
On the first night he received a bye taking him straight through to the second day of preliminaries when he would face a Frederick L. Ross whom Marchegiano disposed off inside the very first minute, “With…,” according to John Pincetich, lead sports writer for The Oregonian on the morning of Friday 23rd, August, “…an overhand right that would make a Mack truck stop and think again.”
For decades afterward the aforementioned Ross would never figure out how he lost. Whilst stationed in England with the American Air Force in 1963 the then captain Ross recalled vividly to British journalist John Krueger his encounter with the future heavyweight champion of the world:
“His ire was aroused against Marciano when the future champ showed up in his corner wearing ‘a silly little cap.’
Ross resented this because to him ‘boxing was a serious business.’ He felt ‘extremely confident’ as he waited for the bell. With ‘no sweat’ his first jab ‘landed good’ followed by a ‘testing right cross.’ Then he ‘went right in’ and powered home his ‘best punch’ but, ‘Rocky just grunted and came right back.’ A shower of Ross blows drove Marciano ‘clear across the ring.’
‘I was dumbfounded when he didn’t go down. With my last one I just teed off from the toes. It drove him into the ropes. Then I dropped both hands, I thought he was done. I dropped both hands to get the most power and knock his head out into the ringside.’
…However this last flurry at the outset was only leading to Ross’ downfall, as other fighters were to later discover.
‘You either became overconfident and off your guard when you found you could hit him so freely, or you completely lost your confidence when you discovered your best punches weren’t hurting him,’ said Ross of Rocky. ‘I hit him with everything I had and I was following up for what I thought would be the kill when I got it.
‘I didn’t come to my senses until two hours later when I was walking down the street with my dad…’”
This demolition of the previously unbeaten Ross led to another bye as his unnamed third round opponent saw caution as a virtue and pulled out of the bout, this led young Rocco into the semi-final the following day, it is conjecture as to whether Marchegiano stayed to watch the remaining bouts that evening in the ring that had been erected in mid-field and flanked by chairs and bleachers, or if he returned to Swan Island barracks, the temporary berths for all competitors that week.
His opponent in this, for him, penultimate fight of the tournament, one Richard Jarvis, again folded within the very first stanza when Rocco landed a thunderous left hand to the hapless opponents jaw, however, as the punch landed a terrific pain laced through his clenched fist and shot straight up his arm.
As Marchegiano admitted later, “…I didn’t know how to punch right, and I broke the knuckle on the forefinger of my left hand. The bone was jammed almost up into my wrist.” It was an horrific injury, but one that he was at first reticent to tell either Lt. Hansen, or M/Sgt. Hendricks about until after the final for fear that they would pull him from the tournament. The injury was soon discovered nevertheless when Hendricks prepared his hands for taping. Rocco pleaded with his trainer to allow him to fight, so confidant was he that he would win, in actuality, at least according to DeVault again Rocky became so emotional over the thought that he may not get a chance to compete in the final that, “…he cried in the dressing room before he went into the ring. Ask Sam Jacobs of the Jacobs Furniture Co., who was his second. He wept like a baby…”
Despite his initial concerns, Hendricks, perhaps inspired by Marchegiano’s alleged display of despair, relented and thus in order to aid his fighter sprayed, “…something that looked like Freezone on my hand. It turned all the hairs white and then the hand was frozen.”
Thus Rocco entered the final bout later on that very same night crippled by the use of only one hand, his right. He was going against the six-foot-three Joe DeAngelis who had been crowned the New England Golden Gloves heavyweight champion in 1944. This nonetheless was not their first meeting, for as DeAngelis later recalled they had been informally introduced earlier in the tournament when he was with two of his team-mates.
“The first night there we were having supper in the cafeteria of the former Kaiser shipyards when the Army group came in and a blocky aggressive fellow came over, introduced himself as Rocky Marciano (sic), and asked if we were from Boston. We said we were. Rocky looked at me…and remarked: ‘You must be Joe DeAngelis. I’ve been reading about you. You’re good. You’ll make the finals here, and when you do, I’m going to stiffen you.’” DeAngelis continued, describing his bout with the untamed Marchegiano.
“When we received instructions in the middle of the ring, I got a chance to size Rocky up real close. He was the most solid, hard, muscular man I had ever seen, yet his hands were like lightening. When the bell rang, he charged at me, his head lowered like a bull, swinging those looping left and right hands, boring in all the time…I held him off with lefts, saw a good opening for a right, and belted him square on the jaw as hard as I’ve ever hit anyone. He didn’t even shake his head!
“Later in the round I got him with a few more good shots which he ignored. I’ve knocked out a lot of men in my day, but never hit anyone so often and as hard as Rocky, but with no result, hitting him was like hitting the side of a god-damned rhino, I was afraid I would break my hand! Rocky kept coming and swinging with everything he had: I kept moving and trying to time his rush, let go a few punches, and then move again.
“Midway through the second round, after Rocky had missed a series of punches, someone at ringside razzed him. Rocky was enraged. He walked over to the edge of the ropes and yelled down: ‘If you can do any better, come up here! The kid wont stand still.’ Rocky was really mad. He had counted on a quick kayo. He was over-anxious and was making mistakes.”
Those in the audience who had at first been cheering for the destructive soldier, were now changing their allegiance to the flashier DeAngelis. “It was a helluva lousy feeling,” Rocco would confide later, “I think they figured I was throwing the fight.”
DeAngelis continued, “The third round was the wildest. Knowing how hard Rocky could punch, I was very careful. I knew I had the fight won, I just couldn’t make a mistake. Then Mickey (McGuire, DeAngelis’ second) yells, ‘Fifteen seconds Joe, you won.’ Then, Bam! Bam!”
That ‘Bam! Bam!’ was a last desperate combination left-right from the seemingly humbled Marchegiano which knocked DeAngelis cold. To the amazement and bewilderment of the crowd though, it was to be the unconscious mans hand which would be raised in victory, for Rocco’s last ditch attempt to rescue the fight had been futile by a mere second when the bell rang, thus ending both the bout and the count. Rocco was gob smacked by the decision.
As he sat disconsolate in his dressing room after the fight nursing his injured left hand he contemplated giving up the sport altogether then and there. “I told him not to do that,” DeAngelis claimed. “Sure I beat him over three-rounds, there are a ton of fighters who could do that, but there’s not many out there who could beat him over six, ten, or even fifteen.”
Herman Devault would continue with his recollections of the then clumsy amateur in an article from The Oregonian in 1951, “I talked with Marchegiano quite a bit through that tournament as he was waiting to go on or watching other fights, ‘What do I care about the next fight?’ he’d say. “I’ll knock him out!’ And he did.”
“After the tournament he said he wanted to go pro and asked me to manage him. I have to laugh at how I kissed goodbye to the probable next champion, ‘You’ll never get anywhere, you’re too awkward and too much of a clown.’ I told him. So now I run a ranch house and someone else is the champs manager!”
This was however to be Rocco’s last hurrah for Fort Lewis, he would never step inside the ropes for them again his injured hand saw to that, the dislocation to his knuckle saw to it that he would spend his remaining few months in the service of his country under therapy for that damage which would take far longer to heal than anyone had anticipated. Most of this time was spent in the uncomfortable confines of a hospital bed, he had though been fortunate in that on the base was a Japanese-American doctor who had been pioneering a new treatment for just such an injury as Rocco’s. It required an operation which would see a small screw-like device inserted into the dislodged knuckle and over time, as the screw was tightened the knuckle (hopefully) would be slowly maneuvered back into place. Amazingly the procedure worked yet the name of this inventive man would be lost on the patient.
Often over the years Rocco would attempt to contact this Doctor, he would address him through interviews pleading with him to make contact, yet all to no avail, he even went so far as to raid the files at the Fort Lewis Hospital itself after his climb to fame but all their records from this time had been lost. It remained one of his biggest regrets that he couldn’t thank him personally for saving, not just his hand, but his future as well.
It was a future he would soon have to face up to with a great deal of uncertainty, for on 27th December, 1946, private Rocco F. Marchegiano, serial number: 31-301-298, would become a private citizen once more when he was honorably discharged from the service of Uncle Sam, he would carry with him memories, some which he would share, some that would be forever locked away, whilst proudly worn upon his chest, three silver medals as proof of his past three-and-a-half-years in the service of his country, namely the European African Middle-Eastern Service Medal, Army of Occupation (Germany) Medal, and the Victory Medal, along with a strange sense of self-esteem mixed with melancholy brought about by his still heavily bandaged left hand. Before he finally was ready to come home though, he had a trip to make.
He stopped off in Chicago to visit the uncle of an army pal of his who also happened to be a trainer of professional boxers, Rocco went there believing the meeting would perhaps take place in a gymnasium of some description, instead he was dismayed to find himself in the back of a grocery store owned by another member of his pal’s family, and even more disconcerting, upon meeting he was asked to strip to his underwear! After being asked his age the strange ritual was complete, and the prognosis for the uncle of a friend who merely appraised him with his eyes, “Forget it kid, you’d get killed in the pro’s, your arms are too short, your legs too thick, your too old to start out now, forget boxing, go home, raise a family and be happy.”
Later Rocky would be apoplectic when he recalled this bizarre meeting, “How dare this guy who’s never seen me fight, who doesn’t know me, tell me I’ll be a failure in boxing.” For the first time in his life he failed to take someone’s advice, it was a wise move, for with-in five years Rocco Marchegiano would be standing on the brink of the heavyweight championship of the world.