The New York Daily News
May 12, 2006
Patterson: All class from street to top of world
Two-time heavyweight champion Floyd Patterson, one of the most honest, hard-working and sensitive men to ever lace on a glove for pay in the service of a brutal sport, died yesterday at his New Paltz home at 71.
The former champ was the first in heavyweight history to regain the heavyweight crown, after losing it to Ingemar Johansson, a hard-hitting Swede.
Patterson succumbed to years of Alzheimer's disease and prostate cancer.
It was generally known by newspaper friends that he had started to lose his memory during his second go-around as head of the New York State Athletic Commission.
Patterson was appointed by Gov. Pataki in 1995, and many who knew him for years tried their best to minimize the signs. "What's going on with Floyd?" the boxing world wondered.
Very quietly, Patterson was dismissed from his post and was taken to his home in New Paltz.
Since that time, he was seldom heard from and his wife, Janet, rarely answered the phone.
With all this, we had heard from neighbors that Patterson would still walk to his gym to work out and sometimes would even spar with local glovers. This didn't surprise me, because I often heard Floyd say that the best he ever felt in his life was when he was in a gym, wearing his boxing togs. Some people close to him said he might have believed he was readying himself for a bout.
I had known Patterson since he was a shy kid of 17 and didn't yet know whether he wanted to be a professional boxer.
I remember the day very clearly. We were in the Gramercy Gym downtown, and Charley Schwayfel, the manager of the Gramercy Park Hotel, had introduced us.
What I remember most about the meeting was that whenever I asked Patterson something, he was so shy, he'd look down at his shoes while answering.
Schwayfel informed me that he had taken in this somewhat wayward kid and sent him to Cus D'Amato in the Gramercy Gym. "Cus is always looking for kids who can make potential fighters, and this kid might as well do some boxing so as to take out all that hidden anger in him," said Schwayfel.
D'Amato took the kid under his wing, the start of an interesting and mostly triumphant life. Almost immediately, D'Amato saw some winning ways in this shy kid. "Always willing to learn, and he was a joy to teach," said Cus.
"This young fellow took to boxing like a kid takes to ice cream. He's a natural, I tell you," said the man in the homburg.
In no time, D'Amato molded a genuine fighter and in 1952 Patterson became the Olympic middleweight gold medalist.
Cus now was sure he had something, and in the same year, 1952, his charge turned pro. So, on Sept. 12, Floyd TKO'd Eddie Golbold. The wins kept coming.
Patterson started attracting attention with the fans at St. Nick's arena, winning 13 in a row. Now Cus thought he was ready for better opponents, and who does he put him in there with? Joey Maxim, a cutie from Brooklyn who was generally regarded as a "can't hit but can box your ears off" kind of fighter. Maxim beat Patterson, sending him to school in an eight-round decision.
It was a good loss for Floyd, Cus thought, because those eight rounds were a great learning experience. "That's why I matched him with Maxim," said the astute D'Amato.
Patterson came back with will and determination. He was beating everybody put in front of him now.
Patterson started another string of 17 wins, and D'Amato was delighted to announce that his fighter was ready for a championship fight.
On Nov. 30, 1956 in Chicago, Patterson at 21, became the heavyweight champion of the world by knocking out Archie Moore, "the ol' Mongoose," in the fifth round.
For the next two years, Floyd feasted on Cus' carefully hand-picked opponents and beat them all. You see, Cus now had his titleholder and he wanted to keep it for a while - thus the palookas he put his fighter up against.
But, alas, Cus picked one coming out of Sweden he was sure was a cinch for Floyd. He was Ingemar (Toonda) Johansson, and the Swede shocked the world when he destroyed Patterson, knocking him out in the third round. Floyd was down seven times and each time he got up, he reeled about the ring.
Patterson went to his home, which was in Scarsdale at the time, shut the drapes and lost himself to the world for months.
Floyd came out of his depressed mood when D'Amato told him there would be a return match in the next year. Floyd immediately went to the gym, and you never saw a more focused man with a single motive on his mind. He talked to no one and worked intensely, not leaving the gym until the late hours. He was going to win his title back; you read it in his face.
That June 20 night in New York, Floyd took back his title by knocking the Swede out in five rounds. This was to be Patterson's greatest hour.
But, in 1962, Cus made his next mistake. He put him in with Sonny Liston, the big bear with the great left hand who could hit like hell with the right. It took Sonny just one round to wrest the title from Floyd. Just to prove it wasn't a fluke, Sonny did it again months later - in the same round. In his attempts to take back the belt a third time, Patterson would twice lose to Muhammad Ali, the second one ending his career in 1972. His final record stood at 55 wins (40 by KO), 8 losses and one draw.
There's so much more to tell about this man who rose from a juvenile home for troubled kids to the championship of the world. I feel I'm not finished with this column and will endeavor to write more about him in the future.
Let me leave you with this for now: Floyd was a friend of mine, and I can sincerely say this man was one of the finest athletes I have ever known.
Goodbye, my friend, and my condolences to Janet, his wife of over 30 years, and his two daughters.
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