A History of Women's Boxing

by Malissa Smith

  For Pineda, who dropped out of the tenth grade to get married and became the mother of two young children, it brought focus, a return to the books “to get her diploma,” and her eventual entry into college. It also helped her get a job at the local YWCA working with kids. Along with other girls at the gym, she had the chance to show off her talents in a series of exhibition bouts in and around San Pedro.[8] She was also an exhibition sparring partner to up-and-coming male boxers on cards put together by Don Fraser, the promoter at boxing’s Forum venue.

  In early January 1976, Pineda—with Dee Knuckles at her side—made her way to the California State Athletic Commission (SAC) to apply for a boxing license. The year before, the SAC had indicated they were beginning to study the feasibility of legalizing women’s boxing under some conditions. Pineda was reportedly the first woman to apply after California had begun changing its rules to allow women to box. The requirements for the license included a medical examination and a “screen[ing] for professional skill and ability as a boxer,” something most other states did not require. Given that Pineda was the first to apply, the commission had not yet worked out how to test her—nor had they determined what, if any, protective equipment would be required or to decide on any other regulations specific to women.[9]

  By early March, all indications were that the SAC would be willing to use an actual fight between Pineda and an opponent as a test. While it is unclear if the SAC contacted Dave Kibby Sr. directly about the test, arrangements were made for Pineda to fight his daughter, Theresa Kibby, in a bout billed as the boxer Kibby versus the puncher Pineda. As usual, one of Kibby’s brothers was also on the fight card.

  Two weeks later, Pineda traveled to Stateline on Lake with Dee Knuckles to prove to the SAC officials gathered there that she could indeed fight well enough to receive her license to box professionally in the state of California. She was set to fight Kibby at the Sahara Tahoe Hotel & Casino just across the border from South Lake Tahoe, California, in Stateline, Nevada. It was also Pineda’s debut bout as a professional boxer.

  The four-rounder was fought in front of twelve hundred fight fans on March 18 with Theresa Kibby in fine form for what was her third professional contest. Kibby took the fight by decision, but it was not a walkover. Pineda acquitted herself well, delivering what was described as a “jarring punch to [Kibby’s] chin in the second round.” Sportswriter Steve Sneddon went on to write, “It was the kind of punch that often turns fights around. . . . Pineda [then] moved in and roughed her up.”

  What he saw in Kibby, though, was even fiercer. He thought her without equal in the burgeoning world of women’s boxing and noted, “Her opponent paid dearly for the momentary success,” when Kibby’s “killer instinct” kicked in—something he’d not seen in either of her brothers.[10]

  By the fourth round, Pineda’s left eye was swollen and her nose was examined to make certain it hadn’t been broken. Throughout the retaliatory barrage of the third and fourth rounds, Pineda had managed to withstand the onslaught of jabs and combinations and never went down—something that left everyone feeling they’d truly watched two professionals in action. Mindful of why the fight was being contested, Dave Kibby Sr. told the waiting reporters, “Those people were really enthusiastic and I would have to say the [California] State Athletic Commission people were impressed.” The state inspector was described as “amazed. He didn’t believe it. He said they boxed better than some men pros.”[11]

  The upshot was the SAC felt comfortable enough to begin granting licenses to women for both professional and amateur contests. As Inspector Roy Tennison put it, “The girls were pretty well schooled in the art of boxing and in defending themselves. Both of them. It wasn’t a helter skelter affair.” The SAC noted the next step would be to write up specific rules and regulations, but in the interim issued guidelines that would allow women to begin to contest fights legally in California. The requirements included the stipulation that all fights be four-round bouts of two-minutes duration for each round, that all women wear breast protectors, that the gloves be ten ounces, and that there be no mixed-gender fights. The women were also required to certify that they weren’t pregnant or menstruating.[12]

  With the hurdle of gaining a license to box in California finally over, the next step was to come up with a bout. Promoter Don Fraser, who had watched Pat Pineda spar with some of his fighters in the past, provided the answer. He added a four-round women’s bout to his fight card slated for April 28, 1976—just five weeks after Pineda’s debut contest. The fight was set for the Forum in Inglewood, California, and would be on the undercard of the highly anticipated Danny Lopez v. Octavio Gomez fight.

  A “worthy” opponent was found in Kim Maybee, an eighteen-year-old recent graduate of Marshall High School in Los Angeles who lived in Hollywood. She stood six feet, one and a half inches tall, had played basketball in high school, and was looking to join a professional woman’s football team as a receiver. She carried a mean wallop, but had no professional fights, nor much time—if any—in the boxing gym.

  Ahead of the fight, Maybee described herself as a “street fighter,” telling reporters, “I learned to fight in the street. When somebody jumped me I’d jump [them] back.” Maybee also said she eventually began developing her boxing skills with help from her brothers, although she had never trained with a true boxing trainer.[13]

  Eleven days before the historic encounter between Pineda and Maybee, the first approved amateur women’s bout in the state of California was held on April 17 in the town of Eureka. The contest pitted one of Dave Kibby Sr.’s boxing students, sixteen-year-old Cheri Sutherland, against a fighter from nearby Oregon, Karen Steward. Sutherland won the bout by a split decision, although both girls performed well in front of 1,458 cheering spectators—a sell-out crowd for the venue.[14]

  That amateur fight out of the way, Fraser arranged for a crescendo of press coverage—and the inevitable opinions. While most reactions to the fight were muted, some in the press expressed dismay, stating promoter Don Fraser should be “ashamed of himself” for “playing off ladies’ wrestling and roller derby.”[15]

  Columnist Jim Murray of the Los Angeles Times was also appalled at the prospect, writing, “Apparently the Bill of Rights includes the right to a detached retina, or a subdural hemorrhage, or a nose bleed, aphasia or any of the traumas of the prize ring. Women don’t want men to be having all the fun.”[16]

  Other articles were careful to state it was not a “women’s lib” thing, while still more reveled in the perceived incongruity of a woman boxer. A half-page spread on Pat Pineda by Rich Roberts of the Independent Press-Telegram began with a What’s My Line? game-show-inspired question. He offered up such possible guesses as: “a belly dancer in a Greek restaurant,” “a channel swimmer,” or “a professional pizza twirler.” He also opined that any boxing decision in her upcoming bout “may be that the whole affair was almost as ridiculous as some of the other bouts the commission has sanctioned.” While not exactly a resounding endorsement of fighting between female boxers, at least it made mention that some of the fights between male boxers had been less than up to standard.[17]

  A Los Angeles Times piece written by Cheryl Bentsen provided an in-depth look at the circumstances surrounding the fight and included some quotes from the SAC. George Johnson, an SAC inspector, described Pineda and Maybee as having “limited” skills. He went on to explain:

  Maybee and Pineda are hesitant—well maybe that’s not the right word. They’re not mean enough. I watched two girls box in Eureka recently. They were amateurs, but they didn’t have the ability to adjust constantly during the fight, to see the openings. They are conscious of their looks and consequently think about defense and not offense.

  The latter issue of appearances became a theme in many of the articles, from the standpoint of not wanting to see women get hurt to purported squeamishness by the boxers themselves at the prospects of getting punched in the face. In Bentsen’s piece, however, the fighters thems
elves dispelled some of the myths.

  Pineda said of getting hit, “When I’m in the ring I hear people going, ‘Oooooh! Aaaaah!’ Like they feel every punch [but] it’s not so bad.” Pineda and Maybee both pointed out their rough beginnings in neighborhoods where people fought regardless of gender. Pineda related a story of how in one fight “one of the girls kicked me in the back while I was on top of another girl, hitting her in the face and cutting her eye. . . . I fought this girl about three times, and finally I got her by the hair, threw her and said, ‘You can’t even fight.’”

  Maybee also told of her days fighting in her neighborhood, whether it was kids on the street or her brothers, saying, “Hey, I’ve fought so many times since I was a little kid, it’s ridiculous!”

  A member of the SAC had expressed such concern over the matter of “girls” fighting that he went so far as to contact the world-famous retired tennis player Althea Gibson about it. She had recently joined the New Jersey Athletic Commission, which was responsible for boxing and wrestling there. From her perspective, girls fighting and boys fighting were not different, contending that in the kind of neighborhoods she’d come from it wasn’t a big deal.

  If it was “okay” for girls from the “ghetto” to wale on each other alongside their brothers, then the question of maintaining a feminine appearance could not be so readily dismissed. Even Kim Maybee self-reflexively asked how she would contend with Pat Pineda’s perceived good looks in the ring.

  “‘One thing I worry about is Pat’s face,’ she said. ‘She is pretty. Wow! If I hit her—I’ve seen the aftereffects of hitting someone in the jaw. Sheeeewwww! I figure, one round. That’s all I need.’”[18]

  Both fighters seemingly dispelled the questions surrounding female appearance in the boxing ring, although the questions by no means went away. The promoter, however, attempted to turn the conversation to the usual publicity surrounding well-publicized fights. Both women participated in open workouts and press events held at the old Main Street Gym in Los Angeles. This was a good strategy as the gym was the stomping ground for all of the great fighters in L.A. and a popular locale for “boxing pressers” (publicity events for sports reporters prior to fights).

  Along with Pineda and Maybee, Fraser was also promoting Danny Lopez and Octavio Gomez, who participated in the press events. Fraser’s focus, however, was clearly on getting the word out about the historic nature of the Pineda-Maybee bout as the first fully sanctioned professional female fight in California. Fraser even had both women spar with Danny Lopez, who, when asked to pick a winner for the bout between Pineda and Maybee, chose Maybee because she was the harder puncher.

  The pressure of the upcoming fight was not to be underestimated, especially for Pineda. The day before the fight she had an argument with Dee Knuckles. Knuckles had big plans for Pineda after the contest: visions of a boxing tour with stops in Hawaii, Germany, Paris, South Africa, and maybe even Madison Square Garden. She was also worried that Pineda “might blow it.” Pineda’s response was to say, “Dee and I don’t see eye-to-eye about all this stuff. I don’t know what it all means. It’s my career right now, but may not be for long. I only worry about today. I could be dead tomorrow.”[19]

  Pineda’s comments proved to be somewhat prophetic. At the weigh-in, the five-foot, five-and-a-half-inch Pineda came in underweight while Maybee came in at 165 pounds—five pounds over the weight limit. Pineda went out to gain weight—eating a double meal of Chinese and Mexican food to come in at 154, while Maybee went off to shed five pounds by sitting in a “sweat box” and going for a long run. When she came back she weighed exactly 160 pounds. By fight time, however, Maybee not only had an eight-inch height advantage, but she also had gone back to her original weight—with no word on what Pineda actually weighed at fight time or how all that food may have affected her. While the issues Pineda and Maybee faced with making weight was nothing new in boxing, Maybee was clearly an entire weight class larger just before their ring debut at the Forum.

  Still, the fight went on. Both women came into the ring wearing long, flowing red satin robes, reminiscent, one reporter said, “of the hoopla of televised wrestling matches” from the 1950s. Underneath, though, they showed none of the flamboyance of the earlier era, with both wearing plain boxing shorts and T-shirts, their breast protectors tucked into their bras.[20]

  From the opening bell, it was clear that the fight was a “ms-match” as one paper put it. The lanky, muscular Maybee pummeled Pineda at will with Pineda showing none of the crispness or fortitude of her first fight against Kibby. In the second round, Maybee continued her onslaught through the early going. Maybee even showboated a bit, wowing the crowd of 7,540 spectators with her rendition of the “Ali shuffle.” Once she began to “land consecutive lefts and rights to the head” in the second round, referee Marty Denkel called an eight-count and, not liking what he saw, stopped the bout at fifty-seven seconds into the second round of the scheduled four-round match, giving Maybee the TKO win.[21]

  The spectator’s reaction to the bout was mixed. Some were clearly aghast. One man, identified as a dentist from Santa Monica, said, “Is this sick, or is this sick? It’s insanely sadistic to watch two women fight.” A boxing trainer who viewed the fight said, “Anybody who puts a woman in the ring ought to be in jail. Women aren’t built for fighting; it’s inhuman.” A female spectator who watched the bout was clearly excited and seeing the possibilities for her own career in the ring said, “I think the money’s going to be good.”[22]

  After it was over and Pineda was in her dressing room, she told reporters she had “pulled some punches.” The disappointment clearly showing, she added, “I wish I could have got a whole K.O.—not a technical one.” She then went on to announce her retirement, saying, “That was my last fight.” In actuality, she had one more fight—a four-round rematch against Kim Maybee at the Olympic the following October which she lost by decision, making Pineda’s record 0-3.

  The exuberant Maybee didn’t respond to Pineda’s pronouncement, but when asked about the stoppage told the reporters, “It was fine. It was fine. She couldn’t take no more.” The press, clearly fascinated with speaking to a female boxer, also asked if she “did the things other gal teen-agers do.” Maybee responded, “Yes. I know how to knit but it’s a waste of time. But I can cook.” After a beat, the smiling Maybee said, “Now I want to see my friends.”[23]

  For their efforts the two women were reported to have received anywhere from $250 to $350. One tidbit for the fight night was that if Kim Maybee had not made weight, Diane Syverson, a twenty-six-year-old former professional Roller Derby player, who was the third woman to have been licensed by the state of California, would have replaced her on the card. She is said to have fought Maybee in Fresno in June 1976. Syverson gave Maybee a twenty-pound advantage in the bout, but won with a decisive fourth-round TKO. The contest, however, is not officially listed on any of the boxing record websites—a not uncommon occurrence for many of the female bouts at that time.

  The Avalanche: Women’s Boxing “Invades” the Ring

  If the (women) boxers aren’t taken off the card, people like you, for putting on the card, and the women boxers will have to be killed. . . . This letter is by no means a joke.

  —Typewritten death threat mailed to Aileen Eaton and Don Chagrin, May 1976[24]

  The “firsts” continued with bouts in other states including Montana—where there was to have been a never-realized fight ten years before—and the legalization of women’s boxing in Canada for professional and amateur matches, which led to some cross-border opportunities for Americans looking to compete. No mention, however, was given to the earlier professional bouts that had been held in Canada over the years.

  What was becoming increasingly clear was the growing popularity of the sport in spite of the controversy and negative reactions from some fight fans and the press. There was also no shortage of women who wanted to try their “fists” in the ring, with women’s bouts in California begi
nning to appear more and more often on fight cards.

  A big “win” for women’s boxing was the announcement that the Olympic Theater—once the province of Belle Martell and now under the watchful eye of Aileen Eaton—would add its first female bout to a professional fight card. The contest was actually a rematch between Theresa “Princess Red Star” Kibby and Diane Syverson. Kibby and Syverson had met in a boxing contest held on May 5, 1975, at the Civic Auditorium in San Jose, California. After four intense rounds, the fight was called a draw, but as one newspaper put it, the matchup was the “San Jose thriller that overshadowed the main event.”

  The rematch at the Olympic was announced in mid-May and scheduled for May 27, 1975, ahead of the Memorial Day weekend. Given the press notices that Kibby and Syverson had received, the choice was a good one. It also looked as though there wouldn’t be any controversy associated with the bout. That was all to change, however, when the press was informed that a death threat had been mailed to Aileen Eaton and the Olympic Theater’s matchmaker, Don Chargin. Fighters Theresa Kirby and Diane Syverson were also explicitly threatened.

  The typed missive complete with several misspelled words and signed “THE BOXING FANS” had been postmarked in San Bernardino a week before the fight—and was received just four days before the bout was set to go on.[25]

  The Independent Press-Telegram printed excerpts from the letter in its article on the threat: “If the (women) boxers aren’t taken off the card, people like you, for putting on the card, and the women boxers will have to be killed. . . . This letter is by no means a joke.”[26]

  None of the threatened parties were deterred by the letter, which was turned over to the FBI for investigation. Kibby’s father, notified of the letter’s content, said, “I’m not worried about that. We have a contract to fulfill and we intend to honor it.”[27]