<<<<<The greatest fighter of all -- to me
Siobhan McAndrew Writer's note: This column about Floyd Patterson originally ran in the Reno Gazette-Journal in 2002. I was so sad to hear of his death Thursday at his home in New Paltz, N.Y. He was 71 and had Alzheimer's disease and prostate cancer. I can credit Patterson with giving me my start in journalism when I was 12. He was gracious enough to grant an eighth-grader an interview for a class project. After the interview, Patterson offered me a Popsicle, something that to this day reminds me of how young and inexperienced I really must have been. But I would have never known it sitting on Patterson's couch asking my questions, recording the interview on a boom box. He was champion in my eyes, long after he stopped winning boxing titles.
Floyd Patterson hasn't been portrayed on the silver screen by a star like Will Smith, who brings Muhammad Ali's life to millions in the film "Ali," about boxing and the man many consider the "Greatest Fighter of All Time."
Patterson doesn't have a star on the Walk of Fame in Hollywood. Ali, who had a phenomenal career and fascinating personal life, has received his star.
Unlike Ali, Patterson hasn't been featured in news clips showing him carrying the Olympic Torch. He hasn't been seen in television commercials. He hasn't been a guest at the Oscars or the Golden Globes. But he's my favorite champion.
Patterson, who in 1956 was the youngest boxer to become the heavyweight champion of the world, was the first person to give me a taste of what a career in journalism could mean. He was a really big deal who made a huge difference to an awkward little girl from a tiny town in upstate New York.
Patterson grew up in poverty. He learned to box in reform school. He won New York Golden Gloves competitions in 1951 and 1952 as a middleweight. At the 1952 Olympics in Helsinki, he won the gold medal. After the Olympics, he turned professional, and in 1956, at the age of 21, he beat 42-year-old Archie Moore for the heavyweight title. He was the youngest heavyweight champion and the first Olympic gold medalist to hold the title. He was also the first heavyweight champion to lose his title and regain it.
He was knocked out by Ali in his last fight in 1972. He retired after that and established an amateur boxing club for youngsters who had grown up in poverty and crime.
Many of those youngsters, including his adopted son Tracy, owe their successful boxing careers to Patterson.
I, too, owe him thanks for my present career as a journalist. I was a scared eighth-grader in Rhinebeck, N.Y., when I interviewed Patterson for an English class assignment.
Like many people of my generation, I am constantly questioning my career choice. Being a grownup hasn't stopped me from ruminating over what I am capable of doing and what I can actually accomplish.
But jumping into something in the eighth grade has had a lasting impact on my life.
My class assignment was to interview someone older than 40 who had something interesting to say. Most of my classmates opted to interview their parents, grandparents or other relatives. Even then, I had a taste for something different-someone famous.
My dad suggested I call Floyd Patterson, who lived and ran his boxing club in New Paltz, N.Y., an hour's drive from my home. My dad said that even though Patterson was well known, he had a good reputation for talking to the local media.
I remember shaking as I called the famous man to make my request. He agreed to let me interview him, and I frantically prepared thousands of questions.
Because I was too young to drive, my mom had to drop me off at his home, up a long road and surrounded by trees. He immediately came out of his home, greeted me and led me into his study.
I think back now about how unsavvy I must have looked -- being dropped off by my mom, not to mention the added pressure of either dragging out the interview or cutting it short, so I could coordinate with my ride home.
I brought my boom box to record the interview, not a slick, tiny tape recorder associated with most media professionals. I took notes frantically. I kept losing my train of thought. Luckily, I was interviewing a professional who had been interviewed thousands of times. He kept the interview going.
He spent about 90 minutes with me talking about his life and his struggles to be a good father, husband and role model to troubled youngsters at his boxing camp.
Talking to a former heavyweight champion as a terrified 12-year-old is something I think about today when I am not sure I can meet my deadlines or I feel intimidated by important people. I like to think I am a little bit more savvy.
At least I can drive myself to interviews now. Yet, I still remember the first line of the story I wrote about Patterson. I think about it all the time when things get tough.
"You have to go through winter to appreciate spring," Patterson said of his struggles.
It is a struggle for me sometimes to convince news sources to return my calls. I tend to think a call from the Reno Gazette-Journal doesn't carry as much clout with sources as does a call from The New York Times.
Yet, Patterson took a call from an unknown preteen and allowed an interview that he knew would never be published, would never promote his career and would never be read by more than a dozen eighth-graders and Mrs. Cunningham, my English teacher. I am saddened by reports that Patterson now suffers severe memory loss associated with years of severe blows to the head.
It was a monumental event in my life, meeting a man who knew what I was writing wouldn't alter his career but who had the wisdom and the heart to know it could change mine.>>>>>
news.rgj.com |
