November 23,1979 — Referee Lew Eskin stops the fight seconds into the tenth round. Middleweight Willie Classen has heard his last bell.
It was March 24th, 1962. I was an eighth grader in the New York school system, but my parents allowed me to stay up late to watch my favorite sport, boxing, on my 17” RCA black and white TV.
Emile Griffith, former welterweight champ, was trying to regain his title from Benny “Kid” Paret. Griffith had Paret trapped on the ropes and fired 21 unanswered punches before referee Ruby Goldstein stopped the slaughter. Paret died nine days later.
More than 17 years hence, middleweight Willie Classen is lying unconscious outside the ring apron in New York’s Felt Forum. This time I’m not watching on TV; I’m one of the boxing judges assigned by the New York State Athletic Commission. Willie has just been knocked out by Wilford Scypion, an undefeated slugger from Houston, Texas. I don’t think Classen is hurt too seriously. I’ve seen fighters many times being knocked unconscious, only to rise to their feet relatively unhurt minutes later.
Suddenly, I look in Scypion’s corner and I see the distraught face of one of his cornermen. Chills run up and down my spine as I realize the cornerman is Emile Griffith. I know then that Willie Classen will die.
Boxing is a brutal sport. Men hit each other in the head with the intention of knocking the other man senseless. Because of the nature of the game, ring deaths sometimes occur. The referee, the so-called third man in the ring, has the responsibility to protect the fighters by seeing the rules of fair play are observed, by stopping the fight when the contest becomes too one-sided and there is imminent danger of serious injury. Sometimes referees are one or two punches too late. On November 23, 1979, referee Lew Eskin stopped the fight seconds into the tenth round. Middleweight Willie Classen would never answer another bell.
Eskin admitted he had many sleepless nights after the Classen tragedy. “Sure I had trouble sleeping,” Eskin said. “I’m only human and that was a great personal tragedy. But if I were Jack Prenderville, I would have trouble sleeping for a lot longer.”
Lew Eskin, referee, boxing judge, writer and the editor of Boxing Illustrated, is certainly one of the most knowledgeable men in boxing. He’s refereed and judged many championship bouts. He’s written stories about hundreds of boxers, past and present. But for all his accomplishments, Eskin will be remembered mainly for his involvement in the Classen tragedy.
“I’m a fatalist,” Eskin says. “I believe if it’s your time to die, you’re going to die. Not many people remember, but the night Benny Paret died in a championship bout with Emile Griffith, it was Griffith on the floor at the end of the eighth round, in grave danger. Under the rules then, a fighter could be saved by the bell. Now the bell can’t save a fighter, except in the last round. If the bell hadn’t saved Griffith in the eighth round, he might’ve been counted out and Paret would’ve never been knocked out and killed in the 12th round. How do we know Paret wouldn’t have been hit by a truck when he left the arena? See what I mean?”
Willie Classen was once a promising middleweight. His nickname was “Macho,” for his ability to take punishment in the ring then come back to knock the other fellow out. In 1971, Willie won the New York Golden Gloves and was looking for a manager to turn him pro. The first step in the death of Willie Classen involved a slice of pizza.
The Beginning of the End
One day in 1971, Willie walked into a pizza parlor in the Bronx. It was owned by fast-talking Marco Minuto. Minuto, with virtually no boxing experience, became Classen’s unofficial advisor, finally surfacing as manager of record in 1977. Willie won more fights than he lost, but he took his losses hard, dabbling in drugs, according to people close to him.
Classen’s most important fight was against soon-to-be middleweight champ Vito Antuofermo at Madison Square Garden. The fight was fairly close, with neither fighter being down, but Vito was declared a unanimous winner. As is becoming alarmingly the case in New York, when a Latin fighter loses a close decision, bottles began raining on the ring and on the spectators in proximity.
Classen and Minuto dejectedly left the ring, but then incited by the angry crowd, Minuto reentered the ring carrying Classen on his shoulders. They waved frantically to the crowd and in minutes the ring was filled with drunken, unruly fans. The Garden became a nightmare as chairs and everything else not nailed down were thrown into the ring. Finally, the police “Riot Squad” was called in to restore order.
That was the first bit of bad advice Minuto gave Classen. The last proved fatal.
In May of 1979, Classen was brutally knocked out at the Felt Forum by hard-punching John LoCicero. The beating was so severe the New York State Athletic Commission suspended Classen indefinitely, until he passed an EEG test (brain scan). Before undergoing the test, Classen took a bout October 9th and was knocked out again, in the second round.
“Sure I knew Classen was knocked out in England,” Eskin said. “The story of the knockout was in the British Boxing News. I have that paper delivered air mail every week. I then knew that Classen passed a New York State Athletic Commission physical and was allowed to fight. That’s the bottom line. A referee has to assume the fighter has been cleared medically by the commission. If the commission doesn’t feel the fighter is physically fit, they should never permit him to fight. As it turned out, Classen lied to the commission and told them he was stopped in England on cuts, and they believed him. And you can be assured that the Madison Square Garden Boxing Department knew Classen was knocked out in England. They too subscribe to British Boxing News.”
From Happiness to Despair
November 23rd started off as a happy night for boxing. Recently retired Chuck Wepner, the “Bayonne Bleeder” who went into the 15th round of a heavyweight title match with Muhammad Ali, was being honored. Ringsiders smiled as the likable Wepner received his award and addressed the crowd in his affable but crusty manner. These smiles would soon turn to expressions of dismay.
After the preliminaries, there were three scheduled ten-rounders. As a participant in the least important of the three, Willie Classen climbed the steps to the ring with manager Minuto and cornerman Mike Capriano, who was the long forgotten manager of middleweight champion Jake LaMotta. In the other corner stood Wilford Scypion, with trainer Kenny Weldon and cornerman Emile Griffith. Little did Griffith know he would be involved in a second tragedy. Scypion, managed by Mike Jones, who also co-manages heavyweight Gerry Cooney, had an impressive 14-0 record, all his wins via the KO route.
The first two rounds were uneventful. Both fighters sized their opponents up in mid-ring, but the only punches thrown in anger were to the body. About a minute into the third, Scypion floored Classen with two deadly right hands. Classen lived up to his “Macho” nickname by trading punches with Scypion along the ropes until the bell rang ending the round.
Rounds four through eight were all close, with Classen winning the fifth and sixth. Scypion started coming on in the eighth, as he hurt Willie downstairs with some wicked left hooks called “Goncho punches” by the Mexicans. These body blows brought down Classen’s guard in round nine.
In the ninth round Scypion continued to punish Classen’s body, but suddenly, with a minute left in the round, Scypion went upstairs with a series of right hands. Classen fell into the ropes and sat on the bottom strand.
“In New York State, when a fighter sits on the bottom strand of ropes it’s ruled a knockdown,” Eskin said. “After the fight, the papers said I made a mistake by giving Classen a standing eight count. That’s not what I did. I was counting because as soon as Classen’s rump hit the bottom strand, he was down.”
Scypion moved in for the kill. Classen slid along the ropes moving toward his corner. There were only 20 seconds left in the round and Willie was blocking as many punches as he was getting hit with. The bell rang and Classen walked to his corner on spaghetti legs.
“Sure I was thinking about stopping the fight after the ninth round,” Eskin said. “I went to his corner to talk to him and he was coherent. He knew where he was and he wanted to continue. There were two ring doctors in the corner looking at Classen. (Dr. Roger Warner and Dr. Richard Izquierdo, who was strangely enough, Classen’s personal physican.) I said to myself, ‘All right, but as soon as he gets hurt, I’m going to stop it.’ ”
What happened next occurred so quickly, it was almost impossible to prevent.
“There was confusion in Classen’s corner when the bell rang for the tenth round,” Eskin said. “His manager forgot to give Classen his mouthpiece. Minuto was walking down the steps with the mouthpiece in his hands. Classen stuck his head through the ropes and Minuto shoved the mouthpiece in his mouth. They started fighting and Scypion hit Classen with a right hand. I jumped in to stop the fight and Scypion hit him again.”
Eskin caught Classen as he fell through the ropes, and with the help of Classen’s cornermen, who were still on the ring apron, they gently laid him outside the ring ropes, on the apron. The ring doctors immediately called for an ambulance, but there was none on duty at the arena. (It has since been made mandatory for an ambulance to be present outside the arena at all prize fights in New York.) An amateur boxing official, attending the fight as a spectator, flagged down a passing ambulance that was on another call, and Classen was rushed to Bellevue Hospital.
Classen died five days later without regaining consciousness. His South Bronx funeral was delayed two hours because the Ortiz Funeral Home refused to release the body until full payment had been made. Minuto had to raise $2,000 on the spot before the funeral director would allow the body to be taken to St. Joan of Arc Church for a Requiem Mass.
The Aftermath
At first the Chairman of the New York State Athletic Commission, Jack Prenderville, said Classen’s death was a regrettable accident. “Everything that could have been done was done.” But later in a sweeping report to Gov. Hugh Carey, Prenderville recommended 32 changes and suspended boxing in the state for one month until they could be put into effect.
Mrs. Willie Classen has since brought a multi-million dollar lawsuit against Eskin, Madison Square Garden and the ring doctors. The New York State Athletic Commission is surprisingly not included in the suit, nor are they supplying legal assistance to the doctors or referee Eskin.
“I don’t know why the commission was not included in the suit,” Eskin said. “There were eight people who could’ve stopped the fight after the ninth round: myself, the three cornermen, the two doctors, Classen himself and the commission.
“When Frank Norris was the commissioner, if he thought a fight should be stopped he would jump up at ringside and tell the referee to stop the fight. Jersey Joe Walcott (New Jersey Boxing Commissioner) does it too.”
After the month suspension, boxing resumed at the Felt Forum in January and a very unusual thing happened. In a fight between undefeated Carmelo Negron and punching bag Bobby “Wildman” Alexander, Deputy Commissioner Louis Rios was seen waving frantically to referee Joe Santaupia to stop the fight with Alexander in trouble in the tenth and final round. The unique thing was, ref Santaupia had Alexander ahead in the fight, the only official to do so, and he didn’t know for a moment who Rios wanted him to give the fight to. After Rios almost personally jumped in the ring, Santaupia stopped the fight, giving it to Negron. Alexander’s manager, Bobby O’Neil, jumped into the ring and kneed the incredulous referee in the groin. O’Neil is still under suspension in New York for that unwise act.
“The commission had ruled that they are not indebted to provide me with legal support in Mrs. Classen’s law suit,” Eskin explained. “They said I was a private contractor and was under the employ of Madison Square Garden the night of the fight. If that’s true, what do we need the commission for? Why don’t we just sell our services to the promoter, direct? We don’t pick our assignments. The commission tells us where, when and how often to work.”
After Classen’s death, State Senator Roy Goodman conducted an investigation into the fight and into the New York State Athletic Commission.
“Those Goodman hearings were a joke,” Eskin claims. “Goodman got a lot of information they could have used to make many changes, but they did nothing. It was a typical political witchhunt. A mental masturbation deal for Goodman’s edification. An ego trip to get his name in the papers.”
Boxing’s Politics Were Alive and Well
As a result of the Classen fight, Eskin received a six-month suspension.
“You won’t believe the reason they gave for my suspension,” Eskin said. “The reason I got a six-month suspension was because I didn’t have the fighters touch gloves before the tenth round. No where in the rule book does it state the referee must have the fighters touch gloves before the final round. It’s customary, but it’s not a rule.
“The problem with boxing isn’t that new rules and regulations are needed. If the ones we have now were being enforced, there’d be no problem. But the rules are not being enforced because you have incompetent, unknowing, uncaring people in the position of enforcing them. I guarantee you I could go into the dressing room with most of the inspectors in New York, and I could load up the gloves of a fighter and the inspector wouldn’t know what the hell I was doing. Those inspectors are there to make sure nothing improper is done in the dressing room, but they could care less.
“The prerequisite for becoming a member of the commission is strictly, ‘Who do you know.’ All you have to do is go down to your local political club and say you want to be on the commission. If the guy you speak to has any clout, and if you’ve done favors for your ward leader, they make a phone call and you’re in.
“There’s a lot of capable referees around who never work. Take Vinnie Ferguson for example. Vinnie’s a good referee and a nice kid, but he has no political clout and he hardly ever works. Do you think Billy Graham would be getting all the work he does if his brother Jackie wasn’t an assistant to the Chairman? Billy became a main bout referee after a few months.
“Another good example is the new Deputy Commissioner, Petey Della. We all know Petey is very active in the Democratic party. Just a couple years ago Della was working as a referee in the Mike Rossman-Yaqui Lopez fight and Petey gave Rossman a standing eight count when there is no such thing in New York. There was a big stink about it, but what penalties did Della suffer? They made him a deputy commissioner.”
Since the night of the Classen fight, Lew Eskin has not reffed another fight in New York, or any other place for that matter. He has worked as a judge for the WBC, but no more referee work.
Eskin explained, “The commission told me the reason why I was not working is because I write about boxing and they consider that a conflict of interest. There are and have been many boxing writers who were also good judges and referees. Joey Curtis in Las Vegas is one.” (Note: I am also a boxing judge in New York, and was one of the two judges in the Scypion-Classen fight. I also have not worked since. The reason given was the same they gave Eskin: writing is a conflict of interest.)
“The whole situation reminds me of the movie Jesse James, where Henry Hull was the editor of the paper and he said, ‘All politicians should be taken out and shot like dirty dogs.’ I don’t subscribe to that, but unless politics is taken out of boxing, it will never be able to take its place alongside the other major sports, where it rightfully belongs.”
Joe Bruno writes five boxing columns a week for the daily Tribune and one a week for ⠀ Boxing Illustrated. He was a judge in 1979 at New York’s Felt Forum for the fight between Willie Classen and Wilford Scypion, a fight which caused Classen’s death.
