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Last of Three Parts: When Pittsburgh was a Fight Town Tuesday, November 30, 1999 By Roy McHugh, Special to the Post-Gazette
The prizefighting business was always to some degree a mess. But long, long ago, when there were vestiges of organization, when there were fewer weight classes (usually just eight), fewer sanctioning bodies and fewer disagreements among them, when Pittsburgh was a fight town, when places like Binghamton and Fargo and Youngstown and Holyoke were fight towns, to be a champion actually meant something. All the more remarkable, then, that Western Pennsylvania was such a breeding ground for the species.
Fritzie Zivic
Ferdinand Henry Zivcich, better known to the public as Fritzie Zivic, was the fifth and youngest son of a Croatian immigrant who made his home in Lawrenceville, went to work at the Black Diamond steel mill, sent for his Slovenian sweetheart, Mary Kepele, and married her. All five brothers learned to box. Four of them persevered at it, none with as much success as Fritzie, who battered his way to the welterweight title in 1940, winning a 15-round decision from the great Henry Armstrong.
In all three of their fights, Zivic butchered Armstrong. The first, in which he won the title, and the second, in which he retained it, were at Madison Square Garden. No title was at stake when the met for the third time, in San Francisco. The decision went to Armstrong, but his head, Zivic recalled, was swollen to the size of a pumpkin.
Fritzie's distinctive logo was his bashed-in nose. Through good times and bad, he maintained an agreeable, light-hearted jauntiness. Zivic had wit, personality, and a flair for after-dinner speaking. The stories he told, in a high-pitched staccato, poked fun at his own vulnerabilities.
The Ring Record Book credits Zivic with 230 fights, of which he lost 65, with 10 draws. He was capable of beating top-notchers and of losing to nobodies. He lost his title, just nine months after winning it, to the undistinguished Freddy (Red) Cochrane.
From one appearance to the next, Zivic could be two different fighters. Dependably, though, he went about his work in a prowling, unhurried, businesslike fashion. Living up to the Pittsburgh tradition established by Harry Greb, he choked his opponents thumbed them, used the laces of his gloves, and hit low; he did not, however, bite, as Greb is supposed to have done at least once, and when he fouled somebody he never forgot to say, "Pardon me."
Teddy Yarosz
"Roy McHugh Remembers" is a periodic feature of the Post-Gazette spoirts pages. McHugh was sports editor and later columnist-at-large at The Pittsburgh Press from 1963 until his retirement in 1983. "When Pittsburgh Was a Fight Town" retells the stories of some of the great fighters in the city's history.
In 1929 Ray Foutts, a tavern owner from East Liverpool, Ohio, happened to be at the Grand Junction Arena when Teddy Yarosz, a middleweight from Monaca, won his first pro fight, an uneventful four-rounder. Foutts liked the way the new comer refused to be hit and bought his contract for $150.Five years later, Yarosz was the middleweight champion.
He had 59 fights before losing one. He mopped up the competition in Pittsburgh (Jimmy Belmont, Tiger Joe Randall, Buck McTiernan), beat a number of top-ranking fighters, including Vince Dundee, and then took the title from Dundee. The crowd at Forbes Field, 25,000, was the largest to see a fight there until Ezzard Charles and Jersey Joe Walcott drew 28,000 for their 1951 heavyweight championship match.
Yarosz was not a sharp hitter. He fought from behind his left shoulder, protecting his chin. The only knockout defeat on his record (he boxed until 1942) wasn't a knockout. Foutts stopped his fight with Babe Risko when Yarosz tore some cartilage in a knee.
Nine months later Yarosz gave Risko a title shot, and again the knee buckled. Yarosz was still on his feet after15 rounds but though the crowd at Forbes Field booed the decision, Risko had clearly won only failing to impress.
As ex-champion, Yarosz had three close fights with Billy Conn. In the first two, Conn outfinished Yarosz to win by disputed split decisions. They now detested each other. "He stabs and chops and then goes for cover, and you can't hit him anywhere except on the shoulders," Conn complained. Before their third fight, Yarosz infuriated Conn with a harmless little show of bravado. He told a sportswriter, "Having beaten Conn twice, I can do it again." Once the bell rang, Conn missed the guidance of his manager, Johnny Ray, who was ill. He roughed Yarosz up, and was roughed up in return, for 12 rounds. In what actual boxing there was, Yarosz had the edge.
But Conn went on to win the light-heavyweight title, and Yarosz, who had parted company with Ray Foutts, never had another big-money fight.
Fellow travelers
Sammy Angott and Jackie Wilson were nomads, boxing where opportunity led them. Angott, born in Washington, Pennsylvania, held the lightweight title, or some version of it, from 1940 to 1944. Wilson, whose hometown was Leechburg, wandered all over the globe. He won the NBA featherweight title from Richie Lemos in Los Angeles and lost it in Providence to Jackie Callura.
All four of Wilson's title fights, and all five of Angott's, were far afield. Both made appearances at the Gardens and Forbes Field, but even when they boxed each other, it was not in Pittsburgh, but, for reasons unknown, Milwaukee. Angott, using his size advantage, won.
Stubby and tenacious always on top of his opponent, Angott was not a pleasing fighter to watch. Nat Fleischer called him "the first unpopular lightweight champion." But Angott could make popular champions look bad. He swarmed all over Willie Pep, undefeated up to then after 62 fights, and put an end to Pep's winning streak. By his own admission, Pep failed to land a single clean punch.
Wilson was Angott's opposite -- slick, quick, elusive. Only Pep, in the featherweight division, excelled him as a stylist. Wilson was 32, and going downhill, when he won the title. His decline was long and pathetic. Like many another practitioner of the arts, he didn't know when to quit.
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