Ali Denied Chance to Fight in Tampa, 12/11/69

As the turbulent 1960s neared a conclusion, the city of Tampa – which had been mostly removed from the major upheaval faced by other large cities during the decade – had to contend with one last issue of cultural importance.

Perhaps never before, and certainly never since, have sports and politics been so intertwined as in the career of boxer Muhammad Ali. One cannot speak of his boxing career without noting the social, cultural and political impact. Likewise, one cannot mention his place in boxing history without acknowledging how the divisiveness of his personal politics affected his career in the ring.

A refresher: In 1967, Ali – who changed his name from Cassius Clay after joining the Nation of Islam in 1964 -- refused to be drafted into the U.S. Armed Forces due to his religious convictions and opposition to the Vietnam War. Although today Ali is generally a sympathetic figure, well-respected and admired, it’s worth remembering how public opinion about him has changed over time.

His association with Nation of Islam leader Elijah Muhammad made him a lightning rod for controversy during the heart of the civil rights movement. His views on the Vietnam War, and his famous reason for not having a quarrel with the Viet Cong, provoked outrage from those who didn’t understand what made him so different from other Americans subject to the draft.

Arrested, stripped of his heavyweight title, found of guilty of draft evasion and denied a boxing license, Ali found himself at a career impasse as the decade came to a close.

It just wouldn’t have been a proper sendoff to the 1960s had sports and politics not intersected yet again. Over the course of several days in December 1969, Tampa served as the battleground for one more cultural tug-of-war with Muhammad Ali at the forefront.

On December 9, 1969, news broke that local businessman and promoter Ron Gorton had arranged to stage a bout between Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali at the 46,477-seat Tampa Stadium on February 16, 1970. Gorton, executive director of the Lions Club American Bowl game, called the potential fight “the biggest sports thing to ever hit Tampa.”

He was right. A heavyweight title fight at Tampa Stadium would have been seen by hundreds of millions around the world and easily would have been the most significant sporting event in the city’s pre-Super Bowl hosting history. One could argue Tampa wasn’t officially a big-time city until acquiring a pro football franchise in the mid-1970s. This boxing match, however, might well have been the event to put Tampa on the map.

The likelihood of the fight taking place cleared an enormous hurdle when the Tampa Boxing Commission unanimously voted to license the fight.

Many public officials came out in support of the event, even if they did not openly agree with or like Ali personally. For his part, Gorton clarified that as a veteran he disagreed with Ali’s politics, but he thought Ali deserved a chance to lose his title in a ring rather than a courtroom.
Leonard Levy, vice-chairman of the Tampa Sports Authority, declined to publicly reveal his personal feelings on Ali, but said: “If all regulatory bodies approve this, then who are we to say that they can’t use (Tampa Stadium)?”

Boxing and Wrestling Commission chairman Eddie Flynn, like Ali an Olympic gold medal-winning boxer, said he would be happy to see the fight happen. He cited an obligation to bondholders to help pay off debt on Tampa Stadium, while bringing sporting events to this area that would meet the public’s approval. The fight could almost certainly help accomplish the former, but not the latter.

The public backlash against the event started almost immediately.

Tampa City Council voted unanimously in opposition to any fight involving Ali, while acknowledging it had no legal recourse to stop the bout.

In his Tampa Tribune column, Tom McEwen accurately predicted that only public opinion could stop the fight from happening. The court of public opinion turned quickly and dramatically against the fight, and even previous supporters began running for cover.

Mayor Dick Greco carefully toed the line, initially saying that while he and others may disagree with Ali’s politics, that did not necessarily merit a reason to ban the fight. The following day, however, Greco became convinced from an overwhelming number of phone calls to his office that residents of this area would never approve of the fight. He also took much stronger stand, as well.

“As for me, I am bound by law and what’s legal,” he said, “but I would not myself buy a ticket that would help contribute to (Ali's) financial well-being, and I’m a boxing fan. I hope the sports authority and boxing commission, who are the only bodies with jurisdiction here, will give the matter serious thought.”

The Tampa Tribune, in an editorial entitled “We Object – Conscientiously,” cited a moral imperative in stopping the fight. The editorial also mocked Ali for claims that boxing violated the teachings of Islam, then suddenly changing heart based on a $300,000 fight guarantee.

Politicians throughout the state weighed in on the fight, which became a hot-button political issue because of the involvement of Florida Gov. Claude Kirk. The Republican governor made headlines early for his enthusiastic public endorsement of Tampa as host for the fight. In the spirit of bipartisan cooperation, both Republicans and Democrats took turns in denouncing Kirk and Ali.

U.S. Rep. Sam Gibbons (D-Tampa) announced he was “personally repulsed by Ali and his willful failure to serve his country,” but that hosting the fight was a matter for locals to decide.

U.S. Rep William Cramer (R-St. Petersburg) called Kirk’s actions a “shocking disgrace,” while U.S. Rep. Paul Rogers (D-West Palm Beach) called Kirk’s actions “most unfortunate.”

“Ali’s convictions,” Rogers said, “demand that he not be granted a license anywhere.”

On the morning of December 11, the Tampa Sports Authority dashed Ali’s chances of fighting in Tampa by voting to deny Gorton’s request to rent Tampa Stadium. The Sports Authority cited the public good, as in protection of the facility and its attendees, as the primary reason for denying use of the Stadium. Frank Neff, a member of the special events committee, referenced riots during the 1968 Democratic Convention: “If we do not turn Ali down, we can expect a situation here that would make Chicago seem mild.”

By December 12, the once enthusiastic Kirk had changed his mind, too. Endorsing the fight proved to be a surprisingly bold – some might call reckless -- move politically for Kirk, Florida’s first Republican governor since 1877. Whatever his initial motives, be they political, financial or just a desire to see Frazier whip Ali in the ring, Kirk let Ali have it in a written statement.

“It comes as a surprise to me that a man who lacks the courage to fight for his country could have the guts to get into the ring," Kirk said. “I see no reason why an alleged draft dodger should be in a position to lay claim to any title.”

Without political cover from Kirk, any chances of the fight taking place in Florida were effectively over. Gorton tried wooing Orlando into hosting the fight, but that option encountered a public death too.

In the end, Tampa proved no different from the other cities and states during this period that refused to sanction Ali. Opposition to Ali the man – his beliefs, his values, his actions – overrode the sporting interest or financial windfalls such a fight would invariably produce.
McEwen called Ali a “protester in a time of protest.” The prevalent attitude in Tampa, as well, could be accurately seen as reflective of its time.

It would take 15 months before Ali and Frazier finally met in the ring, a bout at New York’s Madison Square Garden dubbed “The Fight of the Century.” Frazier retained his belt in a unanimous decision, an outcome that surely pleased Kirk, who had failed in his bid to win re-election the previous November.

George Foreman at the Armory, 5/23/69

On May 23, 1969, Muhammed Ali announced that he would retire from boxing forever because the sport ran counter to his religious convictions. The previous evening in Tampa, one phase of another boxer's life concluded for real: the amateur career of boxer George Foreman.

After a three month absence, boxing returned to the Fort Homer Hesterly Armory with the Olympic heavyweight champion highlighting the card. The event would mark the 20-year-old Foreman's last bout as an amateur.

Long before any rumbles in the jungle or best-selling fat-grilling machines, the Houston native scaled the heights of his sport just nine months earlier in Mexico City.

In October 1968, George Foreman defeated Ionas Chepulis of the Soviet Union with a TKO to capture the Olympic gold medal. Foreman endeared himself to those watching at home by waving a tiny American flag in the ring following his match -- quite the contrast to the black-fisted salutes on the medal stand by Olympic sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos.

Foreman also appeared to be the ideal contrast to Ali. Unlike Ali, who had his heavyweight championship stripped following his draft dodging conviction, Foreman brandished his patriotism openly.

"I got a military obligation, and I'm going to honor it," Foreman said at the time. "When it's my time to go, I'll go. I plan to make a lot of money in this country and spend a lot here, too. This is my country. I'll do right by it."

Manager Dick Sadler, who also handled the career of Sonny Liston, knew Foreman could eventually climb the ranks of professional boxing.

"He's a diamond in the rough," Sadler said of Foreman. "He's an untapped oil well. He can hit with either hand. He can think and coordinate his fists with his brain. That's important. He has the power in both hands that others don't."

The crowd of just over 1,000 fans at the Armory knew they weren't going to get a 12-round slugfest so much as the chance to see an Olympic hero. Foreman didn't really come to Tampa to box his opponent George Savage, either, so much as to put on a show.

"We're not here to try and hurt each other," he said.

In fact, Foreman mostly toyed with the outgunned Savage in a no-decision three round fight. Sporting a "USA" t-shirt, Foreman dodged and ducked Savage, who landed only two clean shots to the face of the gold medalist.

The crowd still enjoyed the bout and showered the boxers with plenty of applause. These would be the last moments Foreman would spend in the ring as an amateur fighter.

The next day in Houston, Foreman signed his first pro contract with Sadler, who indicated on their way out of Tampa that Foreman would one day return for a big-time bout.

It took Foreman a little over three years and 37 wins without a loss to become the world's heavyweight champion. On January 22, 1973, down went Joe Frazier.

Foreman would never again box in Tampa, although he made several appearances in Orlando during his comeback in the late 1980s. On that one night, however, fans at the Armory could say that Tampa sent George Foreman on his way in style.

Muhammed Ali Visits Tampa, August 1973

Perhaps the greatest boxer ever and one of the most recognizable athletes on the planet, Muhammad Ali had never been in a ring in the city of Tampa before August 1973.

His first formal visit, it turns out, wasn't in a main event bout at a sold-out Tampa Stadium. Rather, it came as the guest referee for a six-round preliminary fight, a gig hardly worthy of his lofty status in the sports pantheon. But on a warm evening 35 years ago this week, Ali and Tampa finally had a formal introduction.

As July turned to August, the Jim Croce song “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” enjoyed its final week atop of the Billboard charts. Much like the song's namesake character, Ali became the “baddest man in the whole damn town” upon his arrival in Tampa. One might wonder why Ali, with all of his fame, would agree to a guest-referee appearance on a card in Tampa. Ali came to Tampa from Miami Beach, where he had been preparing at his usual stomping grounds -- the legendary 5th Street Gym -- for an upcoming fight against Ken Norton. Chris Dundee, a fight promoter in Miami and the brother of Ali trainer Angelo Dundee, helped arranged Ali's visit to Tampa with local boxing promoter Keith Lancaster.

“We're trying to help boxing in Tampa,” said Chris Dundee. “Ali just happened to be (in Miami) and it's a good opportunity for Tampa to have him without too much expense. His fee is pretty steep."”

Many local reporters got their first glimpse of Ali at a news conference held at the downtown Holiday Inn. The self-proclaimed "greatest of all-time," Ali artfully deflected an issue that loomed like an elephant in the room: The time Tampa denied him an opportunity to box. When he was stripped of his heavyweight title in 1967 for refusing to be inducted into the U.S. military, Ali found this sort of rejection commonplace across America. Tampa took its turn when promoter Ron Gorton settled on Tampa Stadium as the site of a bout between Ali and Joe Frazier. Even though both participants agreed to the venue, the Stadium Authority rejected the idea and helped prolong Ali's three-year exile from the sport. Instead of bringing up this humiliating slight, Ali politely said of his trip to Tampa that, “I like to meet people,” before adding, “The world is a field born to cultivate. If you cultivate it, it can produce anything.”

The business at hand during the media session concerned Ali’s upcoming rematch against Norton. In March 1973, Ali squared off against Norton -- then a relatively unknown boxer -- and suffered a 12-round split-decision loss, only the second defeat of his career. Making matters worse, Norton broke Ali’s jaw with a wicked shot in the second round. Ali, who struggled throughout the match, conceded the defeat at Norton’s hands was a blessing in disguise.

“That was the best thing that ever could have happened to me,” he said. “I was doing things all wrong, and now I can see that. I was fat and out of shape and wasn't saying my prayers, and I was eating everything, staying up, drinking five cups of coffee with three bags of sugar in each.”

Then, as if flipping a switch, he raised his voice to get into character and started hyping the upcoming rematch with Norton.

“You are all invited to the dance on September 10. Come see Muhammad Ali in concert! My partner’s gonna be Ken Norton, and I’m gonna dance the night away. And when I dance, everybody’s in trouble!”

He then sprung to his feet and began shadow-boxing -- against an imaginary Norton, perhaps -- talking about what he was going to do in the ring and how he would do it.

On hand were two trusted members of his entourage, trainer Angelo Dundee and his Tampa-born physician, the "Ring Doctor" Ferdie Pacheco. Subdued and disinterested, both reluctantly settled in for the familiar show on display for a roomful of reporters all too eager to eat up Ali’s antics.

Between bobs and weaves, Ali delivered a freestyle routine made up of one-liners and thinly veiled promises.

“And in this corner from Cherry Hill, New Jersey, the former ‘champeen’ of the world, weighin’ 208 pounds ... Norton’s eyes gonna roll back when he hears that 208 pounds! I got a good five more years to stay on top, and I ain’t nowhere near through yet!”

Still moving around the room with the energy of a 20-year old, Ali just kept on going.
“I’m gonna beat the HELL outta that Norton. I’m gonna move, shuffle, dodge, dance, jab, stick, talk to him, humiliate him!”

To punctuate his performance, Ali added a jab at future nemesis George Foreman.
“Then when I get through with that Norton, I’m gonna take on that world tramp -- I mean champ – George Foreman.”

Suddenly out of breath, Ali sat down to take a few more questions from reporters. One asked if he had become depressed following his loss to Norton. Ali turned serious and answered by saying that it would be foolish to get upset about losing a fight when people are dying in the world every day.

Toward the end of the media session, a reporter asked about Ali's recent travels to Africa. Ali spoke thoughtfully on the subject and described the experience as life-transforming.

Few who witnessed the event that night at Curtis Hixon Hall are likely to describe it in the same terms. A crowd of about 2,200 fans turned out for the show, which disappointed promoter Keith Lancaster, who said more people would have attended if there had been more advance notice of Ali’s appearance. As it was, Lancaster had only one day to prepare for the guest of honor.

Still, those in attendance were treated to Ali's ring antics, the highlight of an otherwise dull match between light heavyweights Nathaniel Gates and Lonnie Robbins. During the match, Ali bantered with the crowd, shadow-boxed as Gates and Robbins exchanged blows, did his patented shuffle, and even removed his shirt as if to feign entry into the fight. In an outcome of little historical consequence, Gates won in a unanimous decision.

After the match, Ali expressed some hope of returning to town for an exhibition at Tampa Stadium. First, however, he had some unfinished business with Norton and Foreman. Ali defeated Norton about a month later in Los Angeles, and went on to have a legendary rivalry with Foreman, producing some of the most memorable boxing matches of all time. He never did come back to town for an exhibition at the stadium, but for one night, Tampa fight-goers had a brief glimpse of “the greatest” on his ascent back to the top of the boxing world.