The history of the Heavyweight Championship- 1970

Welcome to the History of the Heavyweight Championship of the World, a podcast series from Yahoo, with me, Steve Bunce.

In this continuing series I will look at one year in the sport’s history – I start in 1970 and it was a strange time for the title.

I will look at the main fighters, their great nights, their failures and the dramatic and crazy changes in the sport that took place during the Seventies. The unforgettable fights, some of the most iconic events in the history of all sports. There are also the losers, the forgotten men, the neglected fighters, the dead men and the men and women on the side lines. The tragedies, the last fights of the finest. It is all here in this series: This is the history of heavyweight championship – every one of the main players. ( – it is the Decade of Champions.) starting in 1970 at the beginning of a decade of champions.

At the very start of 1970 Muhammad Ali was still in boxing exile, Joe Frazier was heavyweight champion of the world and he shared that title with a nice guy called Jimmy Ellis. It was a confusing time, it was just a continuation of the mess in the boxing business in the late Sixties.

The heavyweight championship of the world was in turmoil: the King was gone, the two champions were getting mixed reviews and both needed a big fight or two.

It had been a time of chaos in the heavyweight division since Ali had been denied the right to fight back in 1967, denied the right to defend what was rightfully his: Ali had won the world heavyweight championship in 1964, had made nine defences. He was, in 1967, untouchable. But, he had refused induction to the US military, risked imprisonment by his bold action and had then been slowly stripped of his title, his ability to make money and his platform to the world. He had avoided prison, but lost the right to travel. And his right to fight.

The US government had come close to shutting Ali’s mouth when they stopped him from throwing punches. Close. The excluded boxer had been touring and giving talks, making a living. Some critics labelled his rambling speeches …“con-man comedy” … and “kindergarten philosophy”. However, the lectures fed him and his family and that is what matters.

But, by the start of 1970, there was far more support for Ali’s anti-Vietnam war stance, and an urgent need for the fallen champion to get back in the ring. And win back what was his – and expose the two world heavyweight champions.

Ali said: “Frazier and Ellis fought for my old jobs. My new job is freedom, justice and equality for black folks.”

Joe Frazier had won his WBC version of the title in early 1968, had made four defences. Frazier was an Olympic gold medal winner in 1964, unbeaten and rightly considered the best of the two world champions. However, the Ring magazine – so long considered the sport’s bible – still ranked the absent Ali as its number one heavyweight. The Ring carried weight and was respected.

Jimmy Ellis had won his WBA version of the title in 1968, had made just one defence and had not entered the ring in 1969. Angelo Dundee, who managed Ellis and trained Ali, said: “Ellis is a beautiful boxer, but deadly dull and also deadly efficient.” The heavyweight champion was not meant to be efficient or dull.

On New Year’s Eve, in 1969, in New York … Frazier and Ellis finally agreed terms for their showdown, their overdue heavyweight unification: The fight was set for February, at Madison Square Garden, the iconic venue at the very heart of the fight city and the very core of boxing history. They each had nowhere to run, but they had tried, make no mistake.

Ellis had planned to fight Henry Cooper in defence of his WBA version of the title in London. It would have been a glorious and deserved finale for Our ‘Enery. In 1966 he had lost a world title fight to Ali at Highbury Stadium in London. Cooper had a real chance against Ellis. However, the British Boxing Board of Control did not recognise the WBA and told Cooper “No”. There was a very real plan to switch the fight to Rome or Dublin. Cooper, who was Mr. Britain, refused. His manager, Jim Wicks, was furious at the Board: “Our ‘Enery has been their best earner for years and this is no way to treat Britain’s greatest boxing hero.” Cooper relinquished his British title in disgust: “I’m disgusted,” he confirmed. In December 1970, he won the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year… the first person to win it twice.

To be fair, Frazier had been linked in a series of lunatic, ridiculous and clearly impossible fights with Ali. There was, by the start of 1970, a growing shift in the way Ali was viewed and dozens of schemers, friends, conmen, millionaires, doctors, cowboys, promoters, religious leaders, pompous politicians and even a few fans claimed that they had found a way to get Ali back in the ring and back in the ring against Frazier.

There was talk of a return for Ali in Chicago, his hometown of Louisville, Montreal, Detroit, Tampa, Las Vegas and Tulsa. A sold-out stadium of 48,000 people was promised in Tampa; a giant TV studio was hired in Miami and the price of admission would be 2,000 dollars each person; a bullring in Tijuana was inspected and passed fit for a fight; a giant plane was fitted with a boxing ring for a fight at 35,000 feet. I’m not inventing these venues, there was Ali Mania long before he had a licence to fight – Ali, by the way, needed to fight. Norman Mailer, the writer, fight fan and genius of all things macho, declared Ali: “America’s greatest ego.” Mailer knew a thing or two about egos.

The collapse of the Las Vegas fight led to Ali being accused of corrupting Las Vegas. “How can I corrupt Las Vegas,” Ali asked.

In addition to the American venues, the rest of the world had an offer for Ali to consider – from the heart of Africa to the Chi-Chi south of France and beyond – royals, despots and the filthy rich, all fancied a part of the big man: The world wanted Ali back in the boxing ring. It was a glorious mess of broken dreams and promises from the land of boxing fantasy. Ali was still the hottest property in sport and he had not hit a man in anger since March of 1967.

In February, Ellis and Frazier met. The WBA and the WBC champion fighting each other. The excuses were over. It was the first crucial step in the right direction – a direction the heavyweight championship needed. They were each guaranteed 150,000 dollars, plus a percentage of the profits. According to records, 512 members of the media applied for a press pass. It was a massacre, the massacre that Angelo Dundee had feared for his guy.

Poor Ellis had started well, with a confident jab and then Frazier had taken him methodically apart. At the end of round three, Ellis was hurt and hurting. Dundee was scared for his man. Frazier was nasty that night at the Garden. “Sissy, you can’t hit. I’m taking everything you got, man, and you ain’t hurting me,” Frazier said during a clinch. Ellis was out of his depth, exposed in many ways.

In round four, Ellis was sent tumbling to the canvas face-first from a left hook. There is a haunting photograph of Ellis, flat on his belly, his eyes open but blank, trying to focus as Frazier skips to a neutral corner with what looks like the tiniest of satisfied smiles. He regained his feet, was groggy. Frazier dropped him again, same lethal left hook. It was Frazier’s finest punch and his left hook is one of the finest punches in heavyweight history. Ellis heard the bell to end round four as the count reached five – he was struggling up. Brave to the end. He beat the count, was ready to fight on when the referee reached nine. If the bell had not sounded, the fight would have ended with the very next punch. Frazier was pitiless and would have loved to send Ellis down and out for the full count of ten. Under the rules, Jimmy Ellis was allowed back to his corner, allowed back to the concerned safety of Dundee. The tiny maestro in the corner had sixty seconds to perform a boxing miracle. Sweet Ang had done it before and he would do it again – but not that night.

Robert Lipsyte, one of the younger American boxing writers, wrote in the New York Times of Frazier’s finishing:

“When he does strike out, it is with a wide-eyed, smiling joyful “hripp” that sends shivers through the crowd an instant before the crunching sound of his glove against flesh.”

The bell sounded to start round five. Ellis tried to rise from his corner stall, is eyes still spinning. Dundee pushed him back. It was over. Frazier was the champion. “Jimmy thought that he had been knocked over just the once. I told him it was twice, and then I told him the fight was over,” Dundee told me one afternoon, twenty years later in Mexico City. Dundee had a real soft spot for Ellis.

At a closed-circuit screening in Philadelphia, Ali was up at the end of the fight, throwing punches, dancing and screaming. Ellis had been his friend a long, long time. They had boxed each other as amateurs, sparred thousands of rounds. However, he was not looking for revenge when he started hollering that night – he just wanted Frazier and wanted back what was his.

His ambition was pure: “I want that Joe Frazier, I’m starting my comeback now!” Ali announced as he flicked out jabs.

A few weeks after Frazier beat Ellis, the Ring magazine finally dropped Ali from the number one position in their heavyweight rankings: Frazier was the new heavyweight champion, the Ring finally gave him the respect he deserved. Ali was, as usual, quick to comment:

“I don’t blame Joe Frazier for accepting the title. He’s got 4 or 5 kids to feed. He’s worked in a meat-packing house all his life and he deserves a break.”

Frazier was becoming increasingly annoyed at Ali’s relentless comments, jibes and insults. Even the compliments were edgy.

“I never said a bad word, the pest tried to get me to say a bad word; Clay gave me a headache. It seemed like the more successful I got, the more envious he became.” Frazier – like too many journalists in 1970 – still called Ali by his old, discarded name … Clay.

And then in the summer it was obvious Ali would get a licence to fight again. His lawyers and lobbyists had worked tirelessly to find an American state that would grant him a licence to box again. All the false starts, bizarre plans and venues vanished … and suddenly it was when he would fight and not … if he would fight. The rhetoric intensified – Ali accused Frazier of having a white girlfriend with him in camp and added: “I’m not condemning white women, white women are beautiful – for white men.” It was a comment guaranteed to make news. All part of Ali’s return. There was still the threat of prison for his refusal to be inducted. That was always in the air.

In June Ali said: “What’s wrong with me going to jail for something I believe in? Boys are dying in Vietnam for something they don’t believe in.” The major columnists were on alert, the King was coming back. All he needed was a licence, a venue, a date and an opponent.

In August there was a press conference in Atlanta. Ali was there. That was the city, October was the month. There was a frenzy. In September, at another conference in New York, it was announced that Jerry Quarry would be the opponent. Ali would get a minimum of 200,000 dollars, Quarry 150,000 dollars. And they would both share some of the profits. The fight was at the Atlanta Municipal Auditorium, capacity 5,000 and it was on October 26th.

Quarry was a legitimate fighter. He had gone 15 rounds with Ellis for the WBA title in 1968, losing a majority decision, and had lost to Frazier after seven rounds for the WBC championship, Ali’s old crown, in 1969. Frazier had cut Quarry and their fight was voted the Ring Magazine’s Fight of the Year for 1969. It was a tough, tough choice of opponent for Ali. Quarry was the first man Ali ever fought as a professional who was younger than him.

“They are expecting me to comeback looking fat, looking bad. They think they’ve done me in. But, I’m going to fool them,” vowed Ali.

The crowd came in fur, in outrageous costumes with feathers and fedoras. The press loved it:

“The greatest collection of black power and black money ever assembled.” Bert Randolph Sugar.

“They had feathered capes, felt headbands and heels like polished ebony.” George Plimpton.

“They held the same reputable and disreputable jobs as their white predecessors, but the plumage was different. The style of the hustler had shifted. It was as if a row of sparrows had flown the wire, to be replaced by a flock of cockatoos.” David Remnick.

I believe that is called: the press having a field day.

Quarry said that 90 percent of the crowd was black. Nobody can disagree with that figure. Curtis Mayfield sang the Star Spangled Banner. Diana Ross and the Reverend Jesse Jackson, diverse sentinels of black culture, took their ringside seats surrounded by known gangsters. Not hoods, I mean infamous gangsters.

When the boxers came together in the centre of the ring they could not hear the referee’s instructions over the noise. At one point, Ali asks: “What?” It was deafening, the hero was back. And the first words out of the commentators mouth when the first bell sounded? Yeah, you guessed it: “Clay in the white trunks…” He was back, the respect would come.

Ali had been out of the ring for 43 months: He was a bit slower, a few pounds heavier. He was also tense. A right cross, still lightning fast, caught and cut Quarry on the left eyebrow in round three. The ref said he could see the bone in the cut. The fight was called off during the sixty seconds between round three and four. Quarry complained, Ali consoled him. The cut needed 11 stitches. Ali had targeted the cut the moment the blood started to flow. Everybody in Atlanta that night was happy, with the exception of Quarry and his 40 guests. Ali cleared a million dollars and Quarry about 400,000 in the end. The Ali business was very good business.

“The only way to stop Ali now is with a gun or an axe,” declared Joe Louis, the great heavyweight champion from the 1930s. Ali never predicted the round, but he had drawn a picture of a referee saying: “Stop, Ali, it’s all over.”

Joe Frazier was in training camp for a November defence and missed the fight. His manager, Yank Durham, watched. “When I fight Clay,” Yank said. “I’m going to get him somewhere in the middle rounds.” Yank, apparently, spoke directly for Joe.

“Frazier will be three times easier than Quarry,” Ali declared when interviewed by Harry Carpenter, and then he told the BBC man. “I could box you tomorrow and we would sell-out – I don’t need Frazier – Frazier needs me.” It was old-fashioned Ali fighting talk… and lovely Harry thanked him for the compliment, but declined the offer.

In Detroit on November 18th – Frazier ended his fighting year with a brutal second round stoppage of Bob Foster to retain his WBC heavyweight championship. Foster was the light-heavyweight champion of the world, arguably the greatest light-heavyweight of all time. Frazier walked through him, looking at the ref in round two to stop it at one point – the ref stayed out, Foster was dropped again. It was Frazier at his most ruthless. Frazier was unbeaten in 26, Ali in 30 and Frazier was two years younger than Ali. Something truly special was possible, but first Ali had another fight and another hard, hard test.

Oscar Bonavena was selected for the December fight at Madison Square Garden. The same Bonavena who had dropped and hurt Frazier, losing a split decision. Bonavena had never been stopped. He was a handful, a nuisance. He had met all the heavyweight fighters, won some and lost some. He knew how to upset people. At the weigh-in for the fight he turned to Ali:

“Why you not go in army? You big chicken?”

The fight sold-out and 150 cinemas screened it on closed circuit.

Ali’s lawyers had managed to get him a New York licence after they presented the local commission with a list of 90 people who had been licensed in New York despite being convicted of crimes including rape, murder, armed robbery, child molestation and military desertion. Three days later, Ali had his licence.

On the night at the Garden, Ali had to share Ken Buchanan’s dressing room. The Brilliant Scottish lightweight world champion was a big star in the old fight city. “Ali never had a changing room. Dundee asked if it would be alright to share. I said: ‘Sure’. I put a tape line down the middle of the room and told him to stick to his side. He was a great man,” Buchanan told me.

Once again Ali was a bit slower, but he was hurtful. The rounds were gruelling, this was a fight, a war to prepare Ali’s body. Bonavena was relentless, catching Ali as he leaned away. This was not a circus return, this was real.

Before the fight Frazier had been quick to dismiss Bonavena. However, Bonavena had dropped Frazier twice in the same Garden ring. It sounded a bit like Frazier was finally doing an Ali. Frazier said: “If he hits Clay once all night, it’s because Clay wants to be touched up to get his body in shape for me.” Oscar hit Ali a lot, more than he had ever been hit.

At the start of the 15th and final round, Ali was in front on all three scorecards. The calculations of the experts would not be needed. A left hook dropped Bonavena. He got up. Another left hook dropped Bonavena. He got up again. Then, a right cross and left hook dropped Bonavena and the fight was over. Official time: 2:03 of round 15. Ali was really back.

It was the only time Bonavena – surely one of the best heavyweights in history to never win the world title – was stopped in a brilliant career. He died when he was shot by a hired hand at a legal brothel one day in 1976.

Mailer, at ringside, wrote about Ali’s finish: “It was like a wrecking ball from outer space. Bonavena went sprawling across the ring. He was a house coming down.”

Dundee was glowing in victory: “My guy sucked it up and got him out of there.”

On December 30th a deal was announced in New York: Frazier and Ali would fight in March 1971. The Boxing News in Britain advertised a package deal in the last issue of the year for transatlantic travellers – 125 quid if the fight was in New York, 165 if it was in Houston. Deal included flight, 4 nights in a hotel and a fight ticket. And, a full American breakfast. It was from Dolphin Maritime of Bond Street, London. I love detail.

December 30th … 1970 is also a dark day for boxing. It is the day many believe Sonny Liston died. The great feared, misunderstood and abused champion died at some point on his own in his Las Vegas home between December 28th and January 6th 1971, when his wife discovered his body. His death is still a mystery, was it natural, a murder or a mistake? A small bag of heroin was found in Liston’s kitchen. Liston had one last fight in June, a bloodbath with Chuck Wepner. Liston won, Wepner needed 72 stitches, had a broken nose and a broken left cheekbone.

In April 1970, the Ring magazine featured its Five Young Lions of the Heavyweight division. Ken Norton was one. He had sparred with both Ali and Frazier in 1970 and won seven of his eight fights. George Foreman was on the list and he had 12 straight wins, 11 by knockout during the year. George finished the year 25 and zero, with 22 bludgeoned. He was the rising star. A Spaniard called Jose Urtain was on the list, but Henry Cooper ruined the Basque Strongman in November. Danny McAlinden, from Coventry and known as the British Rocky Marcianio was included. It’s an odd one, but Danny could whack. Joe Bugner, still only 20, was the last name. Big Joe had spent the summer sparring with the greats in America. Ali, Frazier, Ellis and Liston all shared the ring with him. In September, Bugner beat Wepner.

The division was back, not just Ali.

So Frazier and Ali went their separate ways after the New York conference. Their fight secured. It would be known as the Fight of the Century. What a time it was to be in the boxing world.