News from the Pizza King, Boxing Exhibit

Pizza King, 29 Salem Street Lawrence, MA

Putting the finishing touches on the last few photo reproductions for the exhibit of early Lawrence boxing history. While taking final measurements at the Pizza King today I caught the Channel 7 interview that is currently airing on the King. Click here to take a look.

Tony Pappalardo

Tony Pappalardo's Boxing License

Tony Pappalardo was well liked by everyone, he was a man who cared deeply about the young men he trained, managed and promoted. His career around the ring began sometime in the 1920s with local standouts Al Zappala and Maurice Goesslin and continued through the early 1960s, ending with fighters Chris Devaney and Jimmy Reilly. At various times in his life he trained fighters, he promoted fighters and put on shows, and in his so-called retirement years he sold fight-related goods at local boxing events. He was a quiet, soft-spoken gentleman and many who knew him from his Salisbury Beach sandwich stands were stunned to find out he had been deeply involved in the gritty world of boxing.

Anthony Pappalardo was born in the Sicilian city of Catania on October 4, 1904 and came to Lawrence as a six-year old and attended the Oliver School. Little Tony was a fast learner and was double promoted before graduating the 8^th grade and entering the mills. He married a fellow Sicilian who came from Trecastagni, Catherine Babargallo, and they had three children: Catherine, Rose, and Al. Although there is no hard proof at this time, it is believed that Tony spent some time in the ring as a boxer as his AAU card has an assumed name as Tony Duffy.

His first gym opened sometime in the late 1920s, in an alleyway between Mechanic Street and Haverhill Street. For years before his name appeared in the papers for being a cornerman during the epic Sicilian vs. Neopolitian battles between Mike Sarko and Henry Janco. Along with his fellow Sicilian, former boxer-turned-trainer Louis “Kid Lewis” Laudani, the two were among a handful of men who kept the sport humming during the 1920s. The Irish trainers and promoters were beginning to move out of Lawrence and men like Pappalardo, Laudani, and Bencivenga were there to take over.

In August of 1932 Tony signed a contract as the manager of a young Al Zappala, who’d been the New England light heavyweight champion and was said to be the man who would replace the great Lowell welterweight, Al Mello. Zappala continued his rise under Pappalardo’s tutelage but soon left Pappalardo and the Lawrence area for New York City. Tony continued, moving his gym to various locations throughout the city of Lawrence and worked with many boxers of varying levels and different ethnic backgrounds. Many gyms were segregated by ethnicity but Tony’s gyms were mini United Nations. Where you came from or what language you spoke didn’t matter as much as character and the ability to work hard. In 1933 Tony signed a contract with local middleweight Maurice Gosselin and continued working with his regular stable of fighters including one young power-puncher known as Sammy Martin. Sammy, who’s real name was Salvatore Polese, eventually gave up boxing and opened an auto repair shop Jackson Street. The two men remained lifelong friends.

A part of Lawrence boxing’s inner circle, Tony was contacted by Louis Laudani when boxing great Jack Johnson passed through the city on his way up to Haverhill. Tony told his son Al how he shook hands with Johnson at the Laudani’s Capri Café. (Side note: Johnson spent a lot of time in Haverhill, MA with a friend who had a shoe shine shop downtown.)

In the early 1950s Tony trained a handsome heavyweight from Keene, NH by the name of Horace Veery. Horace was scheduled at the 1952 Lowell Golden Gloves to fight Peter Fuller, son of former Massachusetts Governor Alvan T. Fuller and at the weigh-in a member of Fuller’s entourage gave Horace a once over and said to Fuller: “don’t worry, you’ll knock this hayseed down in the first round.” Horace went on to win the fight and in fact, according to an interview with the Lowell Sun soon after the fight, Fuller claimed he was hanging up his gloves. (We now know that not to be the case, Peter Fuller donned gloves for a charity event in Boston, 1977 against a somewhat bemused Muhammad Ali.) Horace was a regular fixture at the Pappalardo’s Union Street home for Sunday dinner as there was always an extra plate for a boxer at the Pappalardo home. (It didn’t hurt that the Pappalardo girls were knockouts!)

Local boxer Peter Dugan remembers Tony Pappalardo with great fondness and said that Lowell boxing impresario Ted Coupe always had the best things to say about Tony. Ted could be cynical about the people involved in the underbelly of the sporting world, but he had total respect and affection for Tony. Peter often saw Tony at Bengy’s gym in the 1950s, selling gloves for the bags and then later, in the 1960s, selling trunks at the Frost Arena. Always, Tony would be in the middle of the circle, talking with everyone, keeping up with the local world of Lawrence boxing.

Although I knew the name Tony Pappalardo for his involvement in boxing, most Lawrencians remember him for the delicious sandwiches he served up at the beach. His best-known location was across from the Five O’Clock Club and next to the gypsy fortunetellers. Any Italian American artist performing at the beach would make a stop at Tony’s stand for some good home cooking and leave behind a personalized, autographed picture as thanks. Connie Francis and Frankie Avalon were just a few of the performers who enjoyed Tony’s food and company.

Tony made it a point to give his boxer’s AAU registration cards back to the boxer’s families. Some of the men moved away from Lawrence before growing old and theirs were the cards left behind in Tony’s son, Al Pappalardo’s garage. I had the privilege of calling some of the adult children of the boys that Tony trained in the early 1930s and they were thrilled to have validation for the stories their fathers told them about their days as young men in the rings of Lawrence with Tony Pappalardo.

WPA Boxing Gym in Lawrence

I first heard of the WPA boxing gym while reading articles written by Lawrence boxer/trainer Al Brien. Al enjoyed his first formal boxing experiences at the WPA gym, a place where pros worked out alongside beginners. The bulk of the information used in this article came from the scrapbooks and personal recollections of Roland Tardugno, former member of the WPA boxing gym. Thank you, Roland, for sharing this wonderful story.

The WPA Boxing Gym of Lawrence, Part One

The Great Depression of the 1930s had taken its toll on America, its people, and on the sport of boxing. Demoralizing unemployment left many starving and unable to justify the cost of admission to boxing events. Nationwide attendance to boxing matches dropped and the professional world of local boxing would never again reach the heights of the 1920s. The city of Lawrence saw many gyms close, but in 1936 the local world of boxing got a shot in the arm from an unusual benefactor – the US government via the WPA. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration’s was set up to keep America working. Today most of us associate the WPA with bridges, parks and magnificent deco-styled municipal buildings. The WPA also ran local recreation programs and starting in 1936, Lawrencians were able to attend WPA-funded classes in rug-making, knitting, orchestral instruments, tap dancing and boxing. The government-sponsored program gave an air of legitimacy to Lawrence boxing. Thanks to this program and the hard work of local fistic talents Henry Janco, Angie Tardugno and later Richard “Ticky” Ford, the decline of local boxing was halted.

There were several Depression-era programs aimed at keeping young men off the streets. The Civilian Conservation Corps, the CCC, ran overnight camps for young men between the ages of 18 to 25 whose father’s were on government relief. Each month, over 1,000 families in Lawrence would receive $25 in payment for the conservation work (ditch-digging, tree planting, forest fire-fighting) provided by their sons. WPA recreational programs covered everything from sports to the finer arts such as theater and writing. Actor Walter Matthau, the original Oscar Madison, started his career in a WPA neighborhood theater in New York City. (An aside: he also worked as a boxing instructor training cadets at the NYPD Academy.) In the city of Lawrence one of the most successful WPA projects was the boxing gym. Lawrence Alderman Adam Eberhardt and City Park’s Director Augustine T. Walsh were pleasantly surprised when, in the spring of 1936, the WPA program got over 2,000 enrollees in the many exciting offerings; 600 of those young men seeking boxing instruction.

Henry “Bud” Janco and Angie Tardugno were selected to run the boxing program. Henry Janco, born in Lawrence in 1908, came from a large Italian-American family. He trained under sailor Seventy Powers, while enlisted in the US Navy during the mid 1920s, and was the US Scout Fleet Featherweight Champion of 1927-1928.  In the Navy, Janco got the nickname, Bud, when he saved lives by throwing a live artillery shell overboard and a shipmate said “Thanks, Bud.” He came back to Lawrence in 1928 and went into professional boxing as a way to put food on the table and perfect his talent.

Angie Tardugno, also an Italian-American, came from the most famous fighting families ever to come out of Lawrence. Along with brothers Michael and Danny, the Tardugno trio met up with some of the biggest names of their day in their respective weight classes. Michael parlayed his fistic talents into a NCAA scholarship to both Georgetown and Columbia, eventually receiving a law degree. Angie won the 1933 Bantamweight National Championship. Danny turned pro and was managed by famed Boston manager Johnny Buckley, whose stable included Jack Sharkey and Andy Callahan. The Tardugno brothers fought for the love of the sport and Angie was keen to share what boxing had given him with others. (The Tardugno family is one of the few Lawrence families to get voted into the Lawrence High School Hall of Fame. There were many more Tardugno brothers who collectively contributed to Lawrence’s domination in amateur sport; boxing, football and baseball, were just a few of the many sports they “dabbled” in. The lone Tardugno sister, Anna, helped her mother run this incredible machine.) 

The boxing program was divided into three age groups and they staggered the lessons: twelve to sixteen year olds from 4 pm to 9 pm, sixteen to eighteen year olds from 5 pm to 6 pm and eighteen and older from 6 pm to 9 pm. The instructors certainly had their hands full with this many participants, and worked hard to keep everyone safe. Originally housed in Lawrence High School, coordinating evening WPA hours with ongoing Lawrence High activities proved to be difficult. Eventually the WPA boxing gym moved into the old Franklin Street School, which had closed down as a public school in the mid-1930s and was then used by Central Catholic while its Hampshire Street location was built. New equipment was installed at the Franklin Street School: a raised platform, new canvas, striking-bags and new gloves.

The program was so popular and the facilities so attractive that many area pros wound up working out alongside amateurs. Lawrence greats Arthur Flynn, Willie Hagan and Andy Callahan went on record stating, “that this is one of the best training spots around.” A popular urban legend has Andy Callahan training for one of his last fights at the WPA gym and asking Henry Janco to act as a sparring partner. Callahan and Janco had met professionally a decade earlier with Callahan winning by KO. Callahan was notoriously aggressive when sparring, so no one was surprised when he knocked Janco out with a punch, well, no one except Janco who told Andy, in graphic sailor-speak, “to get out of his gym and don’t come back.”

With their personal boxing careers behind them, Janco and Tardugno performed some of their best work at the WPA, rebuilding a local audience who were excited to follow the fruits of their ringside labors. The program maintained its popularity during the five or so years it ran, in no small part due to the devotion of these two men. Their personalities complimented one another: Tardugno was quiet and soft-spoken while Janco, aka  “The Great Bud” was famous for his salty lingo, usually delivered out of the side of his mouth at full volume. Evening Tribune newspaperman Suds Kelly enjoyed quoting Janco at every opportunity and wrote that Janco reassured uninitiated youngsters with phrases such as: “If you don’t know, the Great Bud will learn yuh!” Another time, Suds shared his favorite Janco story:

Henry is best remembered for that immortal remark (while a horse was being destroyed at Suffolk Downs) “Why should they shoot horses with broken legs? –Ain’t they human beings like ourselves?”

WPA Boxing Gym, Part 2

A very young Al Brien found himself intoxicated with the world of boxing at this very gym. Al, who would go on to train Paul Despres, George Cote, and later become the Massachusetts Deputy Boxing Commissioner, got his start with Mister(s) Janco and Tardugno at the Franklin Street gym. Al wrote a brief autobiography for the Lawrence Bee in 1950, singing the praises of his early training and reminiscing on how he got to work out alongside the great Andy Callahan.

Legendary Lawrence promoter Cy Brown (working out of the Genoa Café, Essex Street) from the Buffalo AC, used his marketing acumen to help put on local boxing shows. Lawrencians were going back to the fights in large numbers, to see bouts with fighters such as Wilfred Despres, father of 1949 NE Golden Gloves champ Paul Despres. Other area fistic talents that built a strong local following were: Bill Tammany (Andover), Pat Perrino, Frankie Norman, Charlie Fallon, Dan Tripoli, Jimmy Fields (Methuen) and Howard Freedman, to name a few. Lawrencian Richard “Ticky” Ford joined the gym as an instructor after his spectacular win as the 1938 National Lightweight Champion, following in the footsteps of Angie Tardugno, his fellow instructor and former trainer.

During the spring of 1940, the headlines in the Lawrence papers became more global and grim. The light-heartedness in the local WPA ring was a bright spot amidst the otherwise tragic news coming out of Europe. WPA relief programs were being shut down as the country ramped up munitions production. Still, the WPA boxing gym stayed open and operational, providing direction for young men and entertainment for the masses. An earnest attempt was made to answer the age-old question: which is better, the fighter or wrestler? Henry Janco agreed to a free-for-all fight with local grappler Crash Gagnon and delivered a devastating blow to Crash’s beezer (nose). Crash went down and on his way took the Great Bud and a hunk of his hair with him. Things got nasty on the ground, with Crash pinning a very angry Janco. For weeks Janco would speak of nothing else, his pride and his scalp wounded from this exchange. Crash’s repeated requests for a rematch went unheeded.

The years between the wars were a tumultuous time. The economy whipsawed from heights of untold wealth and prosperity to punishing poverty and fearful unknowns. For approximately six years the WPA boxing gym of Lawrence provided a sense of order in an otherwise chaotic world. America entered the war in December of 1941 and many of the boys and men who participated in Lawrence boxing were off to war. Although I’m not sure of the official closing date of the WPA boxing gym, I feel it is safe to guess that it occurred sometime between December of 1941 and November of 1942, when Henry Janco re-enlisted in the Navy. There are other periods of brightness in the history of Lawrence boxing, but few are as endearing as the six-year reign of the WPA.

Upcoming Exhibit at Lawrence Pizza King

For the past five years I have been on a mission to learn everything I can about the history of boxing in my next-door neighbor, Lawrence, MA. Small, industrial cities throughout New England once had their own economies, their own department stores, radio stations and multiple newspapers. They also had their own heroes and celebrities and some of which were boxers.

A thriving local media helped to shape and mold the stories of these men in a Lawrence-centric way.

Lawrence was a small boxing market. Local promotional literature and boxing portraits rarely make it into any dealer’s collections or on Ebay. The pictures on display at the Pizza King come from private family collections.

This modest exhibit is by no means the complete story of Lawrence boxing but merely a taste. My plan, in borrowing and scanning these images was to some day share them with the community. Pizza King, with its newly renovated interior seems like a good place to start.

I wish at this time to thank the following people who’ve helped me out over the years by either answering my endless questions or sharing their precious pictures: Frank Benjamin, Peter Dugan, Joe Bella, Louise Sandberg and the FOLPL, Pam Yameen, Amita and Helen at the Lawrence History Center, IBRO Members Dan Cuoco, Mike Silver, Brian Doug Cavanaugh, Clay Moyle and Luckett C. Davis. Al Pappalardo, Brenda Guigino, Billy Bell, Ellen Giblin, Jay and Susan Dowd, Roland Tardugno. If your name isn’t here it’s because I will be thanking you and displaying your photos at the next pop up exhibit.

Boxers in the Family Tree: Dave Romano and Vince Martinez

Vince Martinez had a devoted following in Lawrence thanks to his close relatives, the Romano family. Vince's cousin, Dave Romano trains kids at the Lawrence Boxing Club. Dave was kind enough to pose for me the other day after I remarked on the strong family resemblance between Dave and Vince.

Vince was a fall back to earlier times when boxing idols had large local followings that traveled anywhere to see them perform. He was also considered the idol of the 1950’s bobby soxers because of his movie star good looks. He was one of boxing’s most photogenic fighters and received Hollywood offers.  Dan Cuoco

Dave Romano, Lawrence Boxing Club

Visit IBRO for Dan Cuoco's profile of Vince Martinez

Steve Kennedy, Lawrence lightweight, Part 1

Once considered a national lightweight prospect, Steve Kennedy was one of the best homegrown boxers to ever come out of Lawrence. Today his name is known by the few boxing history buffs devoted to the smaller markets.

Steve Kennedy in South Carolina during WWI

I’ve heard stories about once famous boxers dying with nothing but a shoebox full of newspaper clippings. The lucky ones had scrapbooks. Scrapbooks tell us as much about the subject as they do about the person who put it together. Often maintained by loving wives, siblings, mothers or sometime boxers themselves, scrapbooks create a more perfect version of reality. Missing are reports of those losses most irksome to the boxer. Indiscretions newspapers were only too happy to report are not included. Sometimes, when the career has ended and there are blank pages left, the composer will start filling it with their own personal news. It feels oddly intimate to read these scrapbooks. 

Lawrence lightweight Steve Kennedy’s scrapbook was compiled by his kid brother, Dan. Twelve years younger than his locally famous brother, Dan Kennedy would eventually help manage Steve’s comeback attempts during the early 1920s. Few articles were added after 1923. When Steve Kennedy passed away in the summer of 1931 from tuberculosis, Lawrence papers were quick to publish retrospective articles on Kennedy for the next two months. 

Left to Right: Steve Kennedy, Father, Dan Kennedy (circa 1919)

Kennedy’s upward trajectory ended after the first four years of his 13-year boxing career, with the remainder in a sporadic comeback mode. In 1912, Kennedy impulsively pulled out of a golden career opportunity, an unwise decision made during a bout of youthful homesickness. This decision limited his boxing prospects to the New England area. 

Kennedy began as an amateur in Lawrence, MA. On of his early opponents, Young Pendergast, made the mistake of calling the 17 year old a “quitter” after finishing their three round exhibition. Those in charge of the show, sensing a grudge match, allowed the boys to go three more rounds in which Kennedy shredded the doubting Pendergast. The gentlemen at the Unity Cycle Club, Lawrence’s premiere boxing hub, were thrilled with the young prospect but asked him to come back after he bulked up his then-90 pound frame.

Kennedy proved to be a boxing prodigy and the fistically-sophisticated audience of his era greatly appreciated his footwork, feinting and his ability to fight well with both hands.

He earned a devoted fan following and was the darling of the Unity Cycle Club. Manager Jim Crilley, who was instrumental in creating Lawrence’s own golden era (1900 – 1920), took over Kennedy’s career and soon he was fighting big New England names such as the Yelle brothers, Joe Eagan and Tommy Rawson.

In 1912, local boxing events were less frequent thanks to the strike-related turmoil in Lawrence. Crilley took Kennedy along with two other local boys to NYC during what we now call the Bread & Roses Strike. In NYC, Kennedy won the attention of trainers, fellow boxers and promoters as a Lawrence Telegram retrospective articles claims, those in “fightdom in the Metropolis do not care a hoot for a game fighter. What they want and are continually seeking is the class in a boxer’s makeup in preference to his gameness.”  

Crilley brought his boys to the famed Fairmount Gym for their workouts and they were introduced to visiting star Chicago boxer Packey McFarland. McFarland was thrilled to make the swift-footed Kennedy a regular sparring partner. Together with Willie Ritiche a fellow stable mate and lightweight contender the three men became friendly.

On April 26^th Steve fought Charley Twin Miller, a brother of another boxer he’d recently beaten in match in the Bronx. The story goes that Packey McFarland asked that Kennedy be added to his fightcard with Matt Wells. The promoters most excited by Kennedy as a prospect, Pat Donohue and Billy Gibson wanted to see if the Lawrence kid could maintain his composure in front of a NYC audience of 15,000. Kennedy held his own and it is said that for many days the NYC papers were full of talk about the boy from the textile city or the “Strike City” and cartoons were drawn depicting him either performing picket duty or being driven along with streets by soldiers with bayonets.

After witnessing Kennedy’s gym match with Ritchie, Promoters Donoghue and Gibson saw a potential champion and with some stiffening of his punches Kennedy could easily takeover Ritchie’s place as premier Lightweight contender. Donoghue asked Kennedy to have a go at Ritchie the next day and “clean him up” to which Steve replied “I don’t think it’s fair for met to put it over this lad, as he and I have been pals on the road and the gym and it would look raw for me to take him after our being friends all along.” To which Donoghue responded “Well, you’ll take Ritchie or you’ll take the train for Lawrence, now which shall it be?”

Later that night, Kennedy, left along at his rooming house, decided to break curfew and went for a night out in NYC. He had a big scuffle with Jim Crilley when he returned and Kennedy stalked off back to Lawrence. While there is no mention of alcohol in the Lawrence Telegram (March 31, 1923) article that discusses this incident, the Lawrence urban legend has Kennedy coming back to his room somewhat intoxicated.

According to a 1923 article written by friend and former trainer Jack Tilley,the NYC promoters tried to get Kennedy to come back but no amount of pleading telegrams sent to him or his mother would bring him back to NYC.

He resumed his career in Lawrence in the fall of 1912 and went on to win the New England Lightweight crown during an era when the lightweight division was overflowing with talent. His fight with former NE winner Gilbert Gallant was considered one of Kennedy’s finest moments and was the subject of conversation for years to come.