June 11 marks the 40th anniversary of one of the most tectonic title matches in heavyweight boxing history: Larry Holmes vs. Gerry Cooney. Larry’s commendations emerged delinquently due to the fact that his reign followed that of arguably the greatest champion of all time Muhammad Ali. Yet, on that night, “The Easton Assassin” rescued legions from the cabal that was covertly scheming to position a “White Hope” atop the boxing world.
HUMBLE INCEPTIONS
Larry Holmes was one of twelve children of a Georgia sharecropper “who relocated his family to Easton, Pennsylvania in search of work. Soon after the move, however, Holmes’ father abandoned his family, leaving his mother to raise her children in government-subsidized, low-income housing. At the age of 13, Larry quit school and went to work in a car wash (for $1 an hour), and later in a paint factory. He was holding a factory job when he became a sparring partner for Ali in Deer Lake [Pennsylvania].” [1] For the prodigy, this was tantamount to winning the lotto.
At the time, Holmes was enthused just to be in the proximity of Ali and his entourage. He worked in earnest, and everyone loved him. In all, he spent a total of four years as a sparring partner for Ali, making $500 per week. Also, as a Golden Gloves amateur, he excelled, soon turned professional, and was under the watchful eye of veteran trainer Richie Giachetti. Holmes was living—in his opinion—the “good life.” Still, his trainer suggested that he needed to move on from “sparring partner” status and fully embark on his own career. “As time went by, he went from being outclassed, to holding his own, to finally fighting even with Ali. His best sessions were when only the camp was there. When there was a crowd, [he] backed off. He had a job to do and part of the job was to not outshine Ali. [It was clear] Larry wasn’t learning anything new. Larry wanted to stay. He liked Ali. At the time, Ali was paying tremendous money, and Ali fought all the time, so Larry was fighting on the undercard [double-dipping] and working all year long.” [2]
Holmes heeded the counsel, but the Ali shadow would be cast over him for some time to come.
THE SLOW RISE
As a sparring partner for Ali, Holmes had thrived. He showed up early—left late—and did exactly as he was asked on a consistent basis. After turning pro himself, Holmes maintained that work ethic and moved up the ranks, ultimately earning a title shot at newly crowned WBC Heavyweight Champion Ken Norton in 1978. Their conflict was an epic seesaw battle for the ages. In the end, the undefeated Holmes emerged victorious via split decision. From there, he went on to destroy (via knockout) seven consecutive challengers, including the herculean WBA champ, Mike Weaver. Nonetheless, a perpetual gulf existed between Larry and the lion’s share of boxing fans. The rationale was plain and unvarnished: he was not Ali (who by this juncture had gone from pariah/exiled to esteemed elder statesman).
Years both in the ring sparring with “The Greatest” and being allowed behind the veil at the Deer Lake training camps authorized Larry to get acquainted with Ali in more ways than one. As he grew into his profession, he was learning a ton about the boxing frontier. In addition, he was cognizant to observe all of the activities of these grown men and learn the “do’s and don’ts” regarding life.
In his words, he learned that “Heavyweight champions attract too many f*****g freeloaders. [Also] that women could be a terrible distraction to a man who could not control his sexual urges. But, perhaps more than anything else, [Holmes learned] that boxers shouldn’t take too many punches, not in sparring sessions, and not in bouts. There’s nothing heroic about getting hit in the head, even in victory.” [1] Ali struggled mightily with all of the aforementioned issues, and the latter, the headshots, would loom large.
To his credit, Holmes was relatively frugal, quite philanthropic, and devoted to his wife (Diane) and children. He kept a home in Easton, saved millions, surrounded himself with a core of folks more than willing to keep him grounded, and shunned the trappings of celebrity.
ALL SKINFOLK AIN’T KINFOLK
The infamous boxing promoter, Don King, was the mastermind behind constructing a match between Larry and the retired, pensioned champ, Muhammad Ali. Holmes (35-0), initially, wanted no part of it, but King persuaded him to do so. Mammoth sums of money—millions—were at stake, and Mr. King stood to make a ransom! Back then, he commonly functioned not only as a boxing promoter but doubled as Holmes’ manager. Each position would earn him one-third of the total revenue. It was a gangsta move. His rationale was, “Sure, I took millions…but I made millionaires of [my fighters].” King—still beholden to mob bosses at that juncture—spoke pro-Black, but was married irrecoverably to green currency. Ultimately, the sum offered for a duel against his idol was too much to ignore. Apprehensively, Larry signed the contract. According to his trainer, “Really, he didn’t want to fight. He knew Ali had nothing left. Yet, if Larry had refused to fight him, the public would never have respected him as a champion.” [2]
King was equally cunning in coaxing the newly retired Ali out of his recession. In reality, this was not an arduous task because Ali was one who craved the spotlight. As one writer put it, “[Don] would pick Joe Louis out of a wheelchair and feed him to Roberto Duran if the money were right.” [1] Many were concerned about Ali’s declining neurological state (coordination and speech slurring), advanced age, and diminished skillset. Somehow, the Nevada State Athletic Commission awarded him a license to box. On one occasion, in the midst of the pre-fight hype, Holmes responded to Ali’s customary incessant chatter and predictions, stating, “[Ali’s] a** is grass…and I’m the lawnmower.”
The matchup, predictively, was a one-sided obliteration, with Holmes demolishing “The Greatest” via a TKO after the tenth round. The final punch tally was Holmes 340 and Ali 42. Many fans, fearing the worst but envisioning another Ali miracle, were crestfallen. Holmes, even in victory, openly wept for his hero, pleading for Ali to retire immediately. In the aftermath, Ali earned eight million dollars, and Holmes took six million dollars. Of course, Don King siphoned off his customary two-thirds total share from Larry and in typical mercenary fashion, walked away a richer man, albeit at the expense of two bronzed gladiators.
ALONG CAME GERRY
Cooney, perceived by many in the press as being unskilled, raw, having suspect stamina, and needing a quick knockout to win, did indeed possess a pernicious, dangerous left hook. Translated: he always had a “puncher’s chance”, in spite of the naysayers. Holmes, for all of his pugilistic polish and splendor, could indeed be touched. He had been decked by the hazardous Earnie Shavers, certainly understandable, but also cleanly knocked to the canvas for a nine-count by (unheralded) Renaldo “Call Me Mister” Snipes!
Cooney, who had not fought since his May 1981 win over a far past-prime Ken Norton, had spent time drinking, snorting cocaine, and partying in the interim. Don King, in the name of promotion, fanned the racial flames in the lead-up to the collision. Cooney’s co-manager Dennis Rappaport was no less culpable, albeit in a more clandestine manner (“[After the bout] there will be America, Apple Pie, Wheaties, and Gerry Cooney!”). Holmes even brought in the Reverend Jesse Jackson to ease the tension as the contest drew closer. The matchup was initially scheduled for March, but was pushed back because of a mysterious Cooney shoulder injury. In reality, Cooney, apprehensive and feeling the uneasiness of being thrust into the position of a savior, expressed to close confidants that he was in over his head.
In fact, a “crime boss” later testified under oath that he had wagered $30,000–on Holmes–simply because Cooney himself was doubtful of his chances to emerge victorious. Since his early teens, boxing had made Gerry “feel like somebody.” Unfortunately, sets-ups, padded stats, and easy wins over carefully handpicked opposition had landed him here.
Gerry had succumbed to the pressure while simultaneously basking in the glow of public adulation. The latter is fine until it isn’t.
UNANTICIPATED FLOWERS
Similar to other weight divisions, heavyweight boxing had been clamoring for a white “redeemer.” In June 1982, Larry Holmes stopped the Irish-American challenger, Gerry Cooney, in the 13th round in Las Vegas to retain the belt. Nonetheless, the promotional hype was encumbered with racial issues, in spite of the Cooney camp attempting, at least publically, to downplay them. Three not-so-subtle events of note occurred:
(1) President Ronald Reagan had an unmediated phone line to Cooney’s dressing room to extoll him if he emerged victorious.
(2) Both Time and Sports Illustrated plastered Cooney—not Larry Holmes—on the front covers of their magazines.
(3) Larry Holmes was introduced first in the pre-fight introductions. In the history of heavyweight championship boxing, the champion had always been introduced last. This disrespectful deviation from protocol was implemented in order to electrify the largely “pro-Cooney” crowd.
Holmes made the entire diaspora proud that night, serving up a thorough a** whuppin’ for his foe. However, boxing’s ominous administration nearly pulled off a coup. The undefeated champion was as dominant as ever and punished his opponent. Holmes was left with no alternative because if he had not knocked (the 6’6″ 225 pound) Cooney out, boxing history would have been modified. As the battle began to slip away, Cooney’s cornerman exhorted him, “AMERICA NEEDS YOU!” In desperation, Gerry (who had been floored in the second round) hit Holmes in the testicles a total of nine times without being disqualified! If the champion had been cited for this type of foul just twice, the title would have undoubtedly changed hands.
The fix—though ultimately foiled—was in place for Gerry Cooney. A subsequent peek at the ringside judge’s scorecards substantiated that something was indeed amiss.
“It was going to be a robbery,” said one official. “Had not the referee, Mills Lane, taken three points from Cooney for low blows, two of the judges would’ve had the challenger ahead after 12 rounds.” [3]
Holmes, in triumph, had unknowingly saved many people—those craving true competition—from having to suffer another “Great White Hope”. The phrase—coined by writer Jack London—emanated from the period of boxing lorded over by Jack Johnson (in the early 1900s). Anytime a Black champion emerged, there was an urgent need (of the global minority) to find and elevate one to dethrone him. The implication was that “it was unacceptable that a Black man was the best fighter in the world. Similar to the current issue of race norming in NFL concussion settlements, boxing has left Black fighters at a disadvantage following their careers. Compared with white boxers, non-white boxers tend to die younger with excess neurological and accidental deaths, and they have lower social positions in later life. The ‘Great White Hope’ era will undoubtedly go down as one of the most overt racist periods of sporting history. It directly pitted athletes against each other in a race war, with one side, the white, deemed as deserving and good, and the other side, the Black, deemed as a threat to be defeated.” [4]
Larry Holmes, contrary to popular belief, actually did come along at the precise time, in spite of being historically sandwiched between Ali, and a budding Mike Tyson. Sans Holmes, or if he had underperformed that particular night in 1982, the boxing landscape would have been revamped. Under that scenario, Gerry Cooney would have–unjustifiably–become champion. Thus, the boxing hierarchy and sanctioning bodies (while stealthily rejoicing) would have awarded him a championship belt (WBO, IBF, WBC, or WBA) to hold and hide, along with a virtual pass to disregard and overlook every legitimate prospect of the 1980s, at his management’s whim. Fans of the pugilistic game would have been both relegated to and force-fed a bland, staid, sluggish, cut-prone, one-handed heavyweight champion. The “Brother” contenders, analogous to the days of former champion Jack Dempsey (Google Harry Wills and Sam Langford), conceivably would have been mandated to oppose (eliminate) one another. Furthermore, these athletes would likely have been subject to a “confirmation” process, getting to face Cooney only when battling “Father Time” and/or deemed damaged goods.
Holmes was enmeshed in a dilemma–a genuine catch-22–in defeating Ali, a man he worshiped, in a seemingly no-win situation, and pounding the so-called Irish-American sentry. Yet, he emerged victorious, and those same gifted and registered fists neutralized a gambit that would have placed heavyweight boxing in peril. One writer described the 6’4″ boxer as a man who possessed “a jab like a defibrillator”. For verification regarding Holmes’ hands, just ask Cooney.
WHY IT MATTERS
History not only possesses the proclivity to repeat itself, quite frequently, it rhymes. Sport has perpetually been a microcosm of society. Seismic circumstances and events, in spite of progress in a multitude of provinces, have encompassed this country. At times, it is scabrous to refer to these states—our states—as united.
Boxing’s heavyweight division is relatively defunct today. Conversely, in the 1970s and 80s, that particular weight class was fifteen to twenty dudes deep and quite melanated. Quality and talent (along with cable/pay-per-view revenue) notwithstanding, the latter fact vexed some individuals, to say the least.
Why does it matter?!?
The attempted manipulation of Holmes vs. Cooney is another example—a stark reminder—of the blueprint and stratagem of those who will ultimately wind up mired on the wrong side in the chronicles of humanity. Their playbook has barely been revamped.
Forty-plus years ago, just prior to the time of this bout, this nation was positioned under a leader who had appealed to large segments of the country by testing the waters of his potential presidential candidacy in the confederate hotbed of Philadelphia, Mississippi. This Hollywood product galvanized Neshoba County, the site of the brutal murders of the Black activist James Chaney, and White civil rights workers Michael Schwerner and Andrew Goodman. Similarly, to date, we are awash in the corollary of another celebrity holder of the Oval Office. This time, the presider’s verbiage was uncensored and clear of any ambiguity. He held an equivalent rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma (the site of a racial bloodletting), pledging his allegiance to “states rights” during the process. Plainly, this was no mere coincidence. His acrid and hateful rhetoric made the divulgence of one’s previously secluded fears, or detestations, vogue. The attenuated veil regarding race relations–omnipresent–had been raised and ruptured.
Within our present-day political climate, owing to the advent of social media, and given similar combatants, I would shudder at the signing of such a matchup. That evening in 1982, police snipers, well aware of the social/tribal friction, were positioned on the roof of every major hotel adjacent to the venue (outdoors at Caesar’s Palace). In the pre-fight build-up, Holmes had received death threats up until the time he entered the ring. On one occasion, a group of racists attempted to make good on their menacing rhetoric. The champion, six weeks prior to the contest, stated to a journalist that he “had to move [his wife] Diane and [his] kids out of their home in Easton, Pennsylvania, to a secret place of safety, after a carload of rednecks with rifles had shot up [my] mailbox on his front lawn.”
Larry continued, “Please don’t write about it because I’m in enough trouble with this Black and White nonsense already. I believe what happened in Easton is a warning to me and my family, and if the story appears in the press it could encourage other racial idiots.” [5]
For those quick to say, “I don’t see color,” check yourselves. See it as something to be embraced, revered and not reviled and celebrated. Hindsight is certainly 20/20. From a sociopolitical standpoint, if one delves deep, the relevance of their contest rivaled those listed below (all dubbed “The Fight of the Century” at some point, and ballyhooed for more than each participant’s boxing skills):
(1) Jack Johnson vs. Jim Jeffries (“A Perceived African-American Menace To Society vs. The Patriotic Retiree Returning To Save The Nation”) (2) Joe Louis vs. Max Schmeling II (“The American vs. The Proxy of Hitler’s Self-Proclaimed ‘Master Race'”); NOTE: Max did not endorse, nor did he denounce Nazi propaganda, later becoming friends with Louis until his death in 1980, and assisting in the funding of the “Brown Bomber’s” funeral expenses.
(3) Ali vs. Joe Frazier I (“The People’s Champ vs. The Man [unknowingly] Adopted By the Pro-Vietnam Establishment”).
With regard to entitled cliques—sanctioned syndicates—we’ve traveled full circle and back to square one over the last forty years. In this context, a self-proclaimed elite cartel had endeavored to pre-determine the outcome for the pursuit of canonizing their chosen (White Hope) one to the Mount Olympus of professional boxing. This was patriarchy at its best and a modus operandi to “Make Things Right Again” within the sport. It was also a ruse reeking of anxiety and forlornness. Since the retirement of the legendary Rocky Marciano (1950’s), and Ingemar Johannsen’s (Sweden) title loss (in 1960), American (Caucasian) heavyweight prospects Jerry Quarry and Duane Bobick, had failed to reach the championship summit. Rocky Balboa, in spite of the statue in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, erected illogically before that of Smokin’ Joe Frazier, was a cinematic fabrication.
At times in life, ethical decisions regarding our own livelihood and/or civil rights are mediated by a select, biased few. These verdicts are habitually devoid of any consideration—without analysis or assay—of the masses. Often, the sustentation of power and privilege are at the nucleus.
Sound familiar?!?
The same held true within the precinct of prizefighting, but on that evening in Las Vegas, Larry Holmes categorically nullified those sinister ambitions. In an ideal world, ringside judges are subjective, ostensibly impartial examiners. The champion’s knockout of his adversary rendered them obsolete. The two combatants are the best of friends now, often conversing via telephone weekly. In fact, pre-Covid, the tandem contemplated entering the squared circle again for charity. Common sense prevailed. After the loss in 1982, Cooney, spiraling into deep depression and alcoholism, was contacted by Holmes. At a critical juncture, the champion provided encouragement and hope, offsetting the public ridicule and anguish of his former competitor. Oblivious at the time, the polarizing, oft-unappreciated champion had provided the same assuagement for scores of boxing fans.
Both inner peace and accolades for Holmes came laggardly but nonetheless arrived. Lamentably, a considerable swath of America––has yet to (and may never) come to the conclusion that our playbook must be anthologized, revamped, if not totally scrapped, before concord and a long-overdue genesis can be manifested.
By Dr. Eric Hawkins (“Dr. Hawk”)
The Hub.News/Knubia Sports
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
(1) Eig, Jonathan. “Ali: A Life”. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing. New York (2017) pp. 480-481, 488-489.
(2) Hauser, Thomas. “Muhammad Ali: His Life & Times”. Simon & Schuster. New York (1991) pp. 400-401.
(3) Katz, Michael. ‘Could Holmes Have Lost the Decision?’ The New York Times. June 13, 1982.
(4) Kennedy, Ian. ‘The Great White Hopes’ Aimed To Rescue The White Man From A Black Boxing Champion’. Chatham-Kent Sports Network. March 19, 2021
(5) Hart, Colin. ‘Larry Holmes Reveals A 40-Year Secret That Almost Overshadowed The Gerry Cooney Fight After Racist Rednecks Shot At His Home’. The U.S. Sun. May 19, 2022.
