Dad's Biggest Payday Ever Thanks to Muhammed Ail

My Dad was a soldier during World War 2 and a middleweight boxer before the war.  After the War he went to work for a chain of grocery stores that eventually opened a three-acre warehouse in Charlestown, Mass.  Dad was a driver and a warehouseman for Purity Supreme Grocers making about $150 per week in 1964, not bad money at the time.

Dad played poker a couple of nights a week and confined his gambling to cards, except for an occasional bet on boxing.  In January and February of 1964, the talk among the Teamsters where my Dad worked was all about the Cassius Clay vs. Sonny Liston fight.  Most everyone he worked with was sure that Liston was going to pummel the loudmouth Clay.  My Dad was equally sure Clay was going to knock out the older fighter.

In the weeks before the fight, bookies were giving ten-to-one odds in favor of Liston.  Dad had a savings account he called his "Swiss Bank Account" where he kept his poker winnings.  He told me after the fight that he had withdrawn several hundred dollars to bet on Ali.

We listened to the fight on the radio, I don't remember why we could not watch on TV.  But Dad was right.  Ali KOed Liston and Dad won enough money to buy the only brand new car he ever owned.  One of his poker buddies owned a Chrysler dealership in Reading, Mass. He had a new car on the lot for more than a year that nobody wanted.  It was a blue 1962 Chrysler Newport sedan, the absolute basic model.  It had hub caps instead of wheel covers and it had a three-speed manual transmission with a stick shift.  My Dad bought the car with his winnings from the fight.  Dad never said how much he won, but it was clearly more than $2,000--the biggest payday he ever had.

  
Shortly after that fight, Clay changed his name to Muhammed Ali.  My Dad remained a fan.  "He's a loudmouth, but he is not all talk.  He can fight," was my Dad's view of the Ali.

History Made Wonderful! Podcast Review: The History of Rome

At a recent meeting, the group leader gave us some “get-to-know-you” questions.  One was “What’s your favorite group/singer and your favorite song.” 

I answered immediately:  Joan Jett and the Blackhearts and their song “I Hate Myself for LovingYou.”  

But I haven’t listened to that song in months. Questions like this remind me that most people listen to music when they drive, work, exercise or commute. 

Really, I should have said my favorite “singer” is Mike Duncan; my favorite song is his “The History of Rome” podcast.  The podcast was launched on iTunes in September 2007 and was an instant and enduring hit.  I did not begin listening until 2013, long after the final episode was on iTunes, but the podcast was still in the Top 50 on iTunes at that time.

In nearly 200 episodes (179 numbered episodes, some with multiple parts) Mike Duncan guides us from the founding of Rome through the Republic, Julius Caesar and the Civil War, then through the many great and terrible Caesars who followed to the end of the Western Empire in the late 400s.  Duncan did not try to chronicle the Eastern Empire through its end in 1453.

I have read and re-read the Aeneid, including reading it in Iraq.  I love history well told and “The History of Rome” is 70 hours of solid information by a great storyteller.

If you have not listened to podcasts and are interested in history, “The History of Rome” is a great place to start. And the series has its own Wikipedia page.

Re-Enlisting In a Parade: Army Love

In the early 80s, I was a tank commander in the 68th Armor, a reserve unit in Reading, Pa.  We trained at Fort Indiantown Gap, but had a couple of M60A1 tanks and other vehicles in an armory in the city of Reading.

Each year, the 68th put a vehicle or two in the parade through downtown.  Like most reserve and guard units, members of this unit were neighbors and some were life-long friends.  The year I joined, everybody was talking about one of the gunners in the unit who re-enlisted in spectacular fashion the year before.

Billy loved tanks, loved the unit and wanted nothing more than to be a gunner.  He had served four years on active duty, then came home in 1978 and served two years in the 68th Armor.  He wanted to re-enlist, but his wife insisted he get out.  So he left the Army in 1980.  The following summer, in 1981, Billy came to the parade with his wife and young son.  A dozen members of the 68th were riding in the back of a deuce-and-a-half truck, waving at the crowd.  They saw Billy and all started yelling.

Then his best friend said, "C'mon Billy!  Jump in!"  His wife was furious.  Billy looked at the slow-moving truck, at his wife, the jumped the barrier and ran to the truck.  A dozen hands pulled him up and beaming Billy re-enlisted the following week.