boutons_
10-18-2006, 09:25 PM
http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2006/10/17/sports/18frazier.1a.600.jpg
http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2006/10/18/sports/18frazier.3.600.jpg
October 18, 2006
Fire Still Burns Inside Smokin’ Joe Frazier
By VINCENT M. MALLOZZI (http://query.nytimes.com/search/query?ppds=bylL&v1=VINCENT%20M.%20MALLOZZI&fdq=19960101&td=sysdate&sort=newest&ac=VINCENT%20M.%20MALLOZZI&inline=nyt-per)
PHILADELPHIA — In a cluttered gymnasium on North Broad Street, the stench of a lifetime of hard work hung over the tools of a trade that once made Joe Frazier a heavyweight champion and a wealthy celebrity.
On a quiet, sunny Sunday afternoon in this city he adopted, Frazier stayed well beyond the reach of the natural spotlight that beamed through the front window of Joe Frazier’s Gym and swept across an old boxing ring and rows of rusty lockers. Caught in the glow were tables covered with boxing gloves and head gear, and not nearly enough trainer’s tape to hide an old warrior’s wounds.
In a back room beneath a dim bulb, Frazier sat on a sofa and taped his 62-year-old hands for a light workout.
“A sound body keeps a sound mind,” he said.
Then the man known as Smokin’ Joe Frazier, who once formed half of one of the greatest rivalries in sports, rose slowly to his feet. Slightly stooped but still feeling unstoppable, he began to shadow box.
“Don’t seem like I’m getting any older,” he said on this day in early October. “I weigh about 212 pounds, only 10 pounds heavier than I was in my prime.”
Ten pounds heavier, but millions of dollars lighter, according to Frazier and the marketing people who work with him. Over the years, Frazier has lost a fortune through a combination of his own generosity and naïveté, his carousing, failed business opportunities and a deep hatred for his former chief boxing rival, Muhammad Ali (http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/a/muhammad_ali/index.html?inline=nyt-per). The other headliners from his fighting days — Ali, George Foreman (http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/f/george_foreman/index.html?inline=nyt-per) and Larry Holmes — are millionaires.
But while Ali has benefited from lucrative licensing agreements and remains one the world’s most recognized and celebrated athletes, Frazier lives alone in an apartment one staircase above the gym where he and others train young fighters in a run-down part of town.
“This is my primary residence,” he said. “Don’t matter much. I’m on the road most of the time, anyway.”
Asked about his situation, Frazier became playfully defensive, but would not reveal his financial status.
“Are you asking me how much money I have?” he said. “I got plenty of money. I got a stack of $100 bills rolled up over there in the back of the room.”
Frazier blamed himself, partly, for not effectively promoting his own image.
“I don’t think I handled it right, because I certainly could have gone out more and done better for myself over the years,” he said. “I could have left the gym a little more to be on the road.”
He added: “But I guess, in a way, I’m rich, too. I have my family and I have a sound mind and a sound body, and after all of those brutal fights, I’m lucky to still have my eyesight.”
Frazier was born in 1944 in South Carolina, the youngest of 12 children. His parents worked in the fields, and he dropped out of school at 13.
He made Philadelphia his boxing home, turned professional in August 1965 and won his first 11 bouts by knockouts. He was generously listed at 5 feet 11½ inches when he retained his heavyweight title by defeating Ali in a 15-round decision at Madison Square Garden in March 1971. He compiled a career record of 32-4-1.
These days, Frazier is not completely healthy. While driving on the busy street in front of his gym three years ago, he said, his car experienced a mechanical problem and collided with another car. The Philadelphia police said it had no record of the accident. But Frazier has since had four operations on his back and neck, the most recent three months ago at Pennsylvania Hospital.
A person who was briefed on the accident and said he would speak only on the condition of anonymity to avoid jeopardizing his relationship with Frazier said that Larry Holmes helped pay for the operations. Holmes, now a businessman in his hometown of Easton, Pa., answered cautiously when asked if he had done so.
“Joe Frazier is my friend, and what I choose to do for my friends is my own business,” he said. “If I do anything for a friend, it is not done for the purpose of making myself look good and getting my name in the paper. But know this about my friendship with Joe: If I had $4 left in my wallet, two of those would go to Joe.”
Corporate sponsors have not always felt the same way about Frazier.
Darren Prince, Frazier’s marketing manager since 1995, said Frazier remained beloved by fans. But he also said that Frazier’s longstanding animosity toward Ali had hurt him financially.
“They were bitter rivals, and Muhammad always made jokes about Joe, calling him things like an Uncle Tom and a gorilla, and Joe was hurt so he fired back, but sometimes he went too far,” said Prince, who recalled that when Ali lighted the Olympic flame in Atlanta in 1996, Frazier told a reporter that he would like to throw Ali into the fire.
Frazier’s frequent insistence that he won all three of his fights against Ali also did not endear him to potential sponsors, Prince said.
When told of Prince’s remarks, Frazier said, “I am who I am, and yes, I whipped Ali all three times.”
In fact, Frazier lost two of the three fights, including the Thrilla in Manila bout in 1975. Frazier exposed an emotional scar as he recalled those days.
“Ali kept calling me ugly, but I never thought of myself as being any uglier than him,” he said. “I have 11 babies — somebody thought I was cute.”
Frazier’s 11 children are scattered. He once managed the boxing career of his eldest son, Marvis, a heavyweight. In June 2001, his daughter Jacquelyn Frazier-Lyde fought Ali’s daughter Laila and lost on a decision.
Frazier-Lyde is a lawyer and has worked on her father’s behalf in pursuit of money they claim he was owed in a Pennsylvania land deal. In 1973, Frazier purchased 140 acres in Bucks County, Pa., for $843,000. Five years later, a developer agreed to buy the farmland for $1.8 million. Frazier received annual payments from a trust that bought the land with money he had earned in the ring. When the trust went out of business, the payments stopped.
Frazier sued his business partners, claiming that his signature was forged on documents and that he had no knowledge of the sale. In the ensuing years, the land was subdivided and turned into a residential community. The property is now worth an estimated $100 million.
Frazier-Lyde said her father’s former partners took advantage of him.
“They used my father’s money — money he earned through blood, sweat and tears — to build that land,” she said.
She helped her father sue the homeowners, but the case was dismissed in 2003.
Frazier said the matter came down to honor.
“I had a job to do in the ring, and the businessmen around me had a job to do outside the ring,” he said. “I did my job by beating up most of the guys they put in front of me and staying in shape, but the people I trusted didn’t do their jobs.”
Les Wolff, who has served as Frazier’s business and personal manager for the past three years, said he was working to help Frazier recover. He said he talked with a Hollywood director about putting together a movie on Frazier’s life.
“Can you think of two boxers in the world who share the same stature as Ali and Frazier?” Wolff said. “The biggest problem that Joe has had over the years is that he has not been marketed properly.”
On Nov. 30, Frazier will box Willie W. Herenton, the 66-year-old mayor of Memphis, in a three-round charity bout at the Peabody Memphis Hotel. Herenton is a former amateur boxing champion.
“He must have a death wish,” Frazier said.
So Frazier headed toward the ring to resume training. But before leaving the dimly lit room, he stopped to glance at a giant poster that was made from a 1971 cover of Life magazine. It showed him and Ali, side by side and clad in tuxedos, beneath the words “Fight of the Century,” a reference to the first of their three clashes, the one that Frazier won at the Garden. Each fighter made $2.5 million that night.
“Ali always said I would be nothing without him,” Frazier said. “But who would he have been without me?”
http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2006/10/18/sports/18frazier.3.600.jpg
October 18, 2006
Fire Still Burns Inside Smokin’ Joe Frazier
By VINCENT M. MALLOZZI (http://query.nytimes.com/search/query?ppds=bylL&v1=VINCENT%20M.%20MALLOZZI&fdq=19960101&td=sysdate&sort=newest&ac=VINCENT%20M.%20MALLOZZI&inline=nyt-per)
PHILADELPHIA — In a cluttered gymnasium on North Broad Street, the stench of a lifetime of hard work hung over the tools of a trade that once made Joe Frazier a heavyweight champion and a wealthy celebrity.
On a quiet, sunny Sunday afternoon in this city he adopted, Frazier stayed well beyond the reach of the natural spotlight that beamed through the front window of Joe Frazier’s Gym and swept across an old boxing ring and rows of rusty lockers. Caught in the glow were tables covered with boxing gloves and head gear, and not nearly enough trainer’s tape to hide an old warrior’s wounds.
In a back room beneath a dim bulb, Frazier sat on a sofa and taped his 62-year-old hands for a light workout.
“A sound body keeps a sound mind,” he said.
Then the man known as Smokin’ Joe Frazier, who once formed half of one of the greatest rivalries in sports, rose slowly to his feet. Slightly stooped but still feeling unstoppable, he began to shadow box.
“Don’t seem like I’m getting any older,” he said on this day in early October. “I weigh about 212 pounds, only 10 pounds heavier than I was in my prime.”
Ten pounds heavier, but millions of dollars lighter, according to Frazier and the marketing people who work with him. Over the years, Frazier has lost a fortune through a combination of his own generosity and naïveté, his carousing, failed business opportunities and a deep hatred for his former chief boxing rival, Muhammad Ali (http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/a/muhammad_ali/index.html?inline=nyt-per). The other headliners from his fighting days — Ali, George Foreman (http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/f/george_foreman/index.html?inline=nyt-per) and Larry Holmes — are millionaires.
But while Ali has benefited from lucrative licensing agreements and remains one the world’s most recognized and celebrated athletes, Frazier lives alone in an apartment one staircase above the gym where he and others train young fighters in a run-down part of town.
“This is my primary residence,” he said. “Don’t matter much. I’m on the road most of the time, anyway.”
Asked about his situation, Frazier became playfully defensive, but would not reveal his financial status.
“Are you asking me how much money I have?” he said. “I got plenty of money. I got a stack of $100 bills rolled up over there in the back of the room.”
Frazier blamed himself, partly, for not effectively promoting his own image.
“I don’t think I handled it right, because I certainly could have gone out more and done better for myself over the years,” he said. “I could have left the gym a little more to be on the road.”
He added: “But I guess, in a way, I’m rich, too. I have my family and I have a sound mind and a sound body, and after all of those brutal fights, I’m lucky to still have my eyesight.”
Frazier was born in 1944 in South Carolina, the youngest of 12 children. His parents worked in the fields, and he dropped out of school at 13.
He made Philadelphia his boxing home, turned professional in August 1965 and won his first 11 bouts by knockouts. He was generously listed at 5 feet 11½ inches when he retained his heavyweight title by defeating Ali in a 15-round decision at Madison Square Garden in March 1971. He compiled a career record of 32-4-1.
These days, Frazier is not completely healthy. While driving on the busy street in front of his gym three years ago, he said, his car experienced a mechanical problem and collided with another car. The Philadelphia police said it had no record of the accident. But Frazier has since had four operations on his back and neck, the most recent three months ago at Pennsylvania Hospital.
A person who was briefed on the accident and said he would speak only on the condition of anonymity to avoid jeopardizing his relationship with Frazier said that Larry Holmes helped pay for the operations. Holmes, now a businessman in his hometown of Easton, Pa., answered cautiously when asked if he had done so.
“Joe Frazier is my friend, and what I choose to do for my friends is my own business,” he said. “If I do anything for a friend, it is not done for the purpose of making myself look good and getting my name in the paper. But know this about my friendship with Joe: If I had $4 left in my wallet, two of those would go to Joe.”
Corporate sponsors have not always felt the same way about Frazier.
Darren Prince, Frazier’s marketing manager since 1995, said Frazier remained beloved by fans. But he also said that Frazier’s longstanding animosity toward Ali had hurt him financially.
“They were bitter rivals, and Muhammad always made jokes about Joe, calling him things like an Uncle Tom and a gorilla, and Joe was hurt so he fired back, but sometimes he went too far,” said Prince, who recalled that when Ali lighted the Olympic flame in Atlanta in 1996, Frazier told a reporter that he would like to throw Ali into the fire.
Frazier’s frequent insistence that he won all three of his fights against Ali also did not endear him to potential sponsors, Prince said.
When told of Prince’s remarks, Frazier said, “I am who I am, and yes, I whipped Ali all three times.”
In fact, Frazier lost two of the three fights, including the Thrilla in Manila bout in 1975. Frazier exposed an emotional scar as he recalled those days.
“Ali kept calling me ugly, but I never thought of myself as being any uglier than him,” he said. “I have 11 babies — somebody thought I was cute.”
Frazier’s 11 children are scattered. He once managed the boxing career of his eldest son, Marvis, a heavyweight. In June 2001, his daughter Jacquelyn Frazier-Lyde fought Ali’s daughter Laila and lost on a decision.
Frazier-Lyde is a lawyer and has worked on her father’s behalf in pursuit of money they claim he was owed in a Pennsylvania land deal. In 1973, Frazier purchased 140 acres in Bucks County, Pa., for $843,000. Five years later, a developer agreed to buy the farmland for $1.8 million. Frazier received annual payments from a trust that bought the land with money he had earned in the ring. When the trust went out of business, the payments stopped.
Frazier sued his business partners, claiming that his signature was forged on documents and that he had no knowledge of the sale. In the ensuing years, the land was subdivided and turned into a residential community. The property is now worth an estimated $100 million.
Frazier-Lyde said her father’s former partners took advantage of him.
“They used my father’s money — money he earned through blood, sweat and tears — to build that land,” she said.
She helped her father sue the homeowners, but the case was dismissed in 2003.
Frazier said the matter came down to honor.
“I had a job to do in the ring, and the businessmen around me had a job to do outside the ring,” he said. “I did my job by beating up most of the guys they put in front of me and staying in shape, but the people I trusted didn’t do their jobs.”
Les Wolff, who has served as Frazier’s business and personal manager for the past three years, said he was working to help Frazier recover. He said he talked with a Hollywood director about putting together a movie on Frazier’s life.
“Can you think of two boxers in the world who share the same stature as Ali and Frazier?” Wolff said. “The biggest problem that Joe has had over the years is that he has not been marketed properly.”
On Nov. 30, Frazier will box Willie W. Herenton, the 66-year-old mayor of Memphis, in a three-round charity bout at the Peabody Memphis Hotel. Herenton is a former amateur boxing champion.
“He must have a death wish,” Frazier said.
So Frazier headed toward the ring to resume training. But before leaving the dimly lit room, he stopped to glance at a giant poster that was made from a 1971 cover of Life magazine. It showed him and Ali, side by side and clad in tuxedos, beneath the words “Fight of the Century,” a reference to the first of their three clashes, the one that Frazier won at the Garden. Each fighter made $2.5 million that night.
“Ali always said I would be nothing without him,” Frazier said. “But who would he have been without me?”