Floyd Patterson

by W. K. Stratton

  Floyd took these words to heart, in spite of the fear he felt about watching it, and the two champions viewed the film together. As the projector rattled and the black-and-white images flickered on the screen, Louis told Floyd that Ingo’s power was overrated. He pointed out one of the knockdowns, which occurred when Johansson tagged Floyd directly on the nose. If Ingo was a true power-puncher, Floyd would have been knocked out. But Patterson was able to get back on his feet. Also, Louis thought Johansson’s ring demeanor was that of an excited amateur, not a true pro, a flaw a seasoned boxer like Patterson could exploit. Finally, Louis told Floyd that referee Ruby Goldstein had committed crucial errors. Louis recommended that Floyd demand a different ref for the next fight. Floyd agreed to insist on a change. Louis left Patterson’s training camp after predicting to the press that Floyd would become the first boxer ever to regain the heavyweight championship.

  If Ingemar Johansson held much concern about the outcome of the bout, he didn’t show it. Not even on the night before the fight, a time when fighters typically retreat from all but necessary contact with the outside world to focus on what is to come the next day. The evening of June 19, Johansson showed up at 229 West Fifty-Third Street at ten o’clock, entered through the stage door of the CBS studio located there, and basked in the TV lights of the hugely popular quiz show What’s My Line? He didn’t make much of an attempt to fool the show’s panelists about his real identity. “I’ll go to bed right after this,” he said afterward. “If I go to sleep too early I can’t sleep very well. Anyway, this is relaxing to me. It’s fun.” When asked how he felt going into the fight, he said simply, “I feel strong.”

  Birgit Lundgren was at Johansson’s side. How did she feel? “I feel nothing,” she said. With that, the glitter couple of the moment climbed into the Cadillac awaiting them and sped away into the New York night.25

  Patterson, meanwhile, spent some of that evening with Howard Cosell, taping the prefight show. Cosell saw fury in Floyd as Patterson predicted he would beat the new champ with left hooks. Patterson had plenty to seethe about. One of the press reports out of Grossinger’s, where Johansson had again been training, had quoted the new champion as saying he thought that Patterson was afraid of him. Johansson also dismissed Patterson as a mere gymnasium fighter. Patterson confronted the reporter who’d written the latter story and asked if Johansson really had said that. The reporter offered to show Patterson his notebook. Floyd demurred, but he’d been fuming since.

  Floyd would need that curtness and meanness to do what had never been done. James J. Corbett, Bob Fitzsimmons, Jim Jeffries, Jack Dempsey, Max Schmeling, Joe Louis, Ezzard Charles, and Jersey Joe Walcott were all deposed or retired heavyweight champions who had attempted to reclaim their crowns. And all had failed. Would Floyd be able to accomplish what they’d been unable to do? Oddsmakers didn’t think so. Bookies took bets with Patterson as an eight-to-five underdog.

  As the gates opened to long lines on June 20, promoters expected around thirty thousand people to stream into the famed bathtub-shaped stadium, which was now dilapidated following years of poor maintenance. With ringside tickets going for $100 apiece, the box office take was projected to come in at around $750,000. In addition, 230 theaters were set up to carry the closed-circuit telecast of the rematch. Promoters estimated the fight could gross around $2 million and maybe as much as $3.5 million, with each fighter getting 35 percent of the gross.

  Among the spectators who wormed their way up to the front was a stocky, balding, white-haired man in a black homburg who sat close to the ring apron. From Seat 1, Row 1, Section 20, Cus D’Amato would be able to clearly see as the fighters entered the ring. He had kept a low profile in the days leading up to tonight, fearing that the controversy that had sprung up around him following the first Johansson match and the conflict with the New York State Athletic Commission over his license might hurt ticket sales. D’Amato felt confident that Patterson was making progress and would win the rematch. “After the fight,” he said, “I’ll climb into the ring as the crowd acclaims Floyd Patterson as the first heavyweight champion to regain his title.” Perhaps it was D’Amato’s snaky logic, or perhaps it was simple rationalization, but he’d come to believe that it had been necessary for Patterson to lose to Johansson. He’d always promised Patterson that he would be the greatest champion in the history of the heavyweight ranks: “How could Floyd be the greatest champion unless he lost the crown and then regained it?”26

  The Polo Grounds and the neighborhood surrounding it seemed as if they might turn into a battleground. The Eighth Avenue entrance was jammed with people, many of whom were shoving their way toward the ticket stand, when it was announced over the loudspeaker that all ten thousand upper-stand seats (going for $5 each) had been sold. Only thirty-five ticket takers were on hand to serve the people who did manage to get a ticket. Finally, the frustrated fans—both those who’d failed to get tickets and those with tickets who were upset with the slowness of the ticket takers—had had enough and a riot broke out. Two gates were broken down, and outraged fans desperate to see the fight attempted to scale the walls of the stadium. Within a few minutes, though, the two hundred New York City police officers on hand, aided by contract security forces, managed to get the unruly crowd under control.

  Just prior to the opening bell, the Polo Grounds went surreal as fashion models passed out orchids and perfume samples to the women at ringside. To the men they distributed samples of Wash ’N Dri, “the miracle moist towelette.” “This is what I call class, really class,” said a woman upon receiving the perfume and orchid. “This is what’s needed to bring people like us back to boxing.”27 The fedora-wearing gangsters who’d dominated boxing behind the scenes in previous years must have been stupefied.

  The two fighters met at the center of the ring. For the first time, Floyd weighed 190 pounds going into a fight, 8 pounds heavier than he’d been when he first battled Johansson. All the new weight was muscle, giving Floyd an imposing presence. Patterson glanced up at Ingo and saw something that surprised him: fear. “I could see it in his eyes,” Floyd said. “His eyes told me that he knew I meant business . . . He knew. He just knew.”28 When the bell rang, Floyd came out in a conventional stance instead of the peek-a-boo. This was no surprise. His intentions had been reported in the papers weeks before the fight. Yet Johansson was perplexed by the change. Patterson followed Joe Louis’s advice and crowded Ingo from the beginning, while Ingo flicked jabs and awkwardly stepped backward to avoid Floyd’s inside attack. But Floyd’s punches were finding the mark. After just three minutes, Johansson’s left eye was red and swollen.

  In the second round, Johansson unleashed a heavy right that crashed into Patterson’s jaw. The crowd roared its approval and delight when Patterson absorbed the blow and continued to throw down, fazed but unbroken. Patterson resumed his attacks after the brief setback. At times, Johansson looked defenseless against Floyd’s speed—lightning besting toonder. Floyd effectively landed combinations of left hooks to the body followed almost immediately by left hooks to the head. He was able to slip many of Johansson’s responding punches. Chris Schenkel, providing the commentary for TelePrompTer’s film of the fight, said, “It’s obvious Patterson’s chances ride on his left hook. It’s not only his best punch, but it is also forcing Johansson to use his best hand, his right, defensively.”29

  In the fifth round, Floyd stunned Ingo with a hard left hook to the body. Johansson flipped a couple of ineffective jabs in Patterson’s direction, allowing his right hand to slip downward. Patterson immediately pounced on the opportunity. He smashed a left hook into the right side of Johansson’s head and sent the man who’d taken his crown a year earlier tumbling to the floor. On his knees, Johansson gulped air while the referee counted to nine. Then Johansson rose to his feet, his eyes wide open, shock painted on his face. Floyd went into full attack mode—all the anger, all the hatred, all the resentment now on full display. He battered Johansson viciously, showing a side of himself
that he’d never before revealed in the ring. A stunned Ingo could do nothing more than attempt to tie up Floyd in clinches, but the referee refused to allow Johansson to get away with it.

  Then, with just over a minute left in the fifth round, Patterson struck Ingo squarely on the jaw with a picture-perfect left hook—one that boxing historians would marvel at for decades to come. Johansson went down like a stricken steer at a slaughterhouse. Even before he hit the canvas, it was clear he would not be able to get up. He lay there, completely out, one foot trembling. Patterson knew what he had accomplished with that blow. The man who’d suffered so much self-torture over the previous year could not contain himself. Floyd danced briefly in the neutral corner, electric with the knowledge that the title belonged to him once more. When the count was over, Patterson shouted, “I showed you!” to the naysaying press at their posts along the apron.

  After that, he rushed to Johansson, who had yet to move except for that shaking foot. Patterson knelt, gave him a quick embrace, and promised him a rematch. But there was no way Johansson could have heard him. Cosell, who’d scurried into the ring, nabbed Patterson for an interview. Then the sportscaster turned and saw Johansson, still out, blood oozing from his mouth. Cosell became alarmed. “For God’s sake, Whitey,” he said to Whitey Bimstein, who had again worked as Johansson’s cornerman, “is he dead?”

  “The son of a bitch should be,” Bimstein answered. “I told him to look out for the left hook.”30

  Cosell stared down at Johansson’s twitching foot. He saw not a top-rank champion but a demolished, overmatched fighter. Patterson, who had spent months training with a burning loathing for Johansson, was staring at the fighter he’d just crushed. Floyd’s jubilation from just moments earlier gave way to horror. With trainers and the ring doctor tending to him, Johansson spent four minutes stretched out on the canvas before he began to stir. Johansson was alive but far from well. Another three minutes followed with the deposed Swedish champ planted on his stool in his corner of the ring, oblivious to what was going on around him. Finally he was helped to his dressing room, where he remained unresponsive, though at least conscious. Patterson told author and Sports Illustrated’s pro sports dilettante George Plimpton that he resolved to never again inflict as much damage on another fighter as he had on Johansson at the Polo Grounds.31

  Floyd’s dominance in the fight suggests that he possessed a thorough confidence that he would defeat Johansson. But Floyd hadn’t been at all sure that he would win. He even had a plan in place in case he lost. Two autos waited outside the Polo Grounds—one that would allow him to make a very public exit if he won, another that would whisk him away in stealth if he lost. Also, in the weeks leading up to the fight he had become obsessed with disguises and had employed the services of several makeup artists to create fake beards and mustaches. Floyd had them at the ready in his Polo Grounds dressing room. If he lost, he planned to disguise himself so he could flee the stadium unrecognized. But there would be no need for subterfuge on this occasion. Instead, the night was for celebrating.

  Floyd was now the first man ever to win the heavyweight championship for a second time. The next morning, the new champ arrived at the postfight press conference beaming and feeling confident enough to take verbal jabs at the boxing writers who had predicted his annihilation at the hands of Johansson. Later, he rode in a parade in Brooklyn that snaked its way from Grand Army Plaza to Borough Hall, with the borough president, John Cashmore, seated beside him.

  A few days after the fight, New York City mayor Robert F. Wagner Jr. declared World Championship Day for the city and, on the steps of City Hall, presented Floyd with an award. A two-hour parade took place in Harlem, where Patterson basked in the sort of adoration the African American community had earlier bestowed on Joe Louis and Sugar Ray Robinson. Jackie Robinson and Ed Sullivan cochaired a testimonial dinner for Patterson at the Commodore Hotel, with the proceeds going to the Wiltwyck School for Boys. Dinner guests ranged from government figures such as Mayor Wagner and Justice Justine Wise Polier to sports luminaries like retired Dodgers and Cardinals general manager Branch Rickey, the man who had integrated Major League Baseball by signing Jackie Robinson. Pope John XXIII sent a congratulatory telegram. The president of Ghana sent a ceremonial robe. Patterson also delivered a speech to a graduating class at his alma mater: “I’m proud to bring back the championship to America and to PS 614,” he spoke into the microphone, a huge photograph of himself hanging behind him.32

  But there was more. For the first time, Patterson began to admit that race was elemental in the contest. He told Ebony magazine that he believed he regained the championship for himself, his country, and his race. “Joe Louis,” Patterson said, “did a lot for Negroes. He did more for our race than almost anybody. Every person, every Negro in boxing, is trying to get somewhere near the record set by Louis.” That Louis backed Floyd in this contest stoked Patterson’s sense of racial pride. “It was a victory for us!” proclaimed the Ebony editors.33

  Finally, Floyd’s victory was celebrated in verse by a self-styled poet then little known outside the world of amateur boxing. Like bards of old, he carried his poems in his head, ready to recite at the appropriate occasion, rather than write them down. This particular poem he delivered while performing sit-ups as the New Yorker’s A. J. Liebling scribbled the lines:

  You may talk about the Swede,

  You may talk about Rome,

  But Rockville Centre is Floyd Patterson’s home.

  A lot of people say Floyd couldn’t fight,

  But you should have seen him on that comeback night.

  He cut up his eyes, he mussed up his face,

  And that last left hook knocked his head out of place!

  A reporter asked: “Ingo, will a rematch be put on?”

  Johansson said: “Don’t know. Might be postponed.”

  If he would have stayed in Sweden,

  He wouldn’t have taken that beatin’.

  The poet’s name was Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr.34

  Manager Cus D’Amato, who guided Floyd Patterson to the heavyweight championship of the world, advises his fighter during a Yankee Stadium bout in 1959. D’Amato was the most significant professional influence on Floyd, though Patterson later split with him.

  George Silk/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

  In 1952, the American boxing team made its best showing to date in the Olympics when five black fighters, seventeen-year-old Patterson (center) among them, brought home five gold medals to a still largely segregated United States. Bettmann/Corbis

  Floyd floors the legendary Archie Moore to become the youngest heavyweight champion. The 1956 title fight in Chicago—Floyd’s best as a pro—was so one-sided that Moore had to defend himself against charges of a fix. AP Photo

  Dan Florio (right) was Floyd’s most important trainer, refining the fighter’s famous peekaboo stance, then later encouraging him to abandon it. Here Florio and his brother, Nick (left), also a trainer, hoist Floyd in victory after the Moore knockout while D’Amato looks on from behind. AP Photo

  Recently crowned heavyweight champ Floyd and his first wife, Sandra, step out in style as VIP guests at an Atlantic City prizefight. They presented an image of a happy couple in public, but Floyd spent most of his time away from home, and eventually the marriage crumbled when Floyd refused to retire from boxing. AP Photo

  Swedish heavyweight Ingemar Johansson was not expected to present much of a challenge to Floyd when they fought in Yankee Stadium for the heavyweight crown in 1959. But Ingo proved to be a hard-hitting contender who surprised the experts. He became Floyd’s greatest ring rival. STF/epa/Corbis

  Johansson went into the second fight with Patterson, at the Polo Grounds in 1960, as the solid favorite, believed by many insiders to be the next Dempsey. But Floyd landed one of the great left hooks in boxing history and watched as Johansson collapsed, unconscious. Patterson became the first man ever to win the heavyweight crown twice. AP Photo

  In 1
962, Patterson met with President Kennedy, along with Washington, DC, commissioner John Duncan, syndicated columnist Drew Pearson, and “Little Brother” Freddie Cicala to boost the national Big Brother program. Floyd used the occasion to tell Kennedy he planned to go against the president’s wishes and fight Sonny Liston.