IN THE CHAMP’S CORNER
Boxing legend George Chuvalo is in dementia’s unyielding grip, further complicated by a messy family feud. He now needs constant supervision and, thanks to a small army of volunteers, is still fighting.
George Chuvalo sat chatting with two friends near the rear entrance of Pancer’s deli. At a reserved table, so the big man who uses a cane to assuage sore knees could skirt the bustling lunch crowd.
A server slid a loaded plate before the 80-year-old, who thanked her. Chuvalo methodically chewed through thick pastrami wedges on rye. Then fries and pickle chunks.
Later, with a large mitt holding a tiny spoon over a fountain glass, he delicately scooped out creamy rice pudding — his favourite dessert, says Tom Doyle, who with Lee Caprio doubled as chaperoning chauffeurs for the retired pro boxer.
Chuvalo, who famously went15 rounds with Muhammad Ali, now requires constant supervision. Even for a lunch outing.
The Toronto heavyweight is in dementia’s unyielding grip, his urgent health needs complicated by a messy threeyear divorce battle.
Chuvalo’s son Mitch and daughter Vanessa say legal wrangling with their father’s second wife, Joanne, has delayed getting him professional in-home assistance as he deteriorates.
Joanne, 62 and married to Chuvalo for 24 years, says the divorce action is a sham orchestrated by his children, who resent her.
In the meantime, a small volunteer army — including long-time boxing buddies and friends including Doyle, Caprio and wealthy financier Michael Wekerle, formerly of Dragon’s Den — has formed to support the hall-of-famer. They house him. Eat with him. Take him to events, near and far, to engage with fans, recount old glories. Even drive him to radiation treatments; prostate cancer was a recent shock.
“There’s a lot of love in the boxing community for George,” says Wekerle, who — among other kindnesses — pays for Chuvalo to attend a private Toronto health clinic where tests raised the cancer alarm.
But that volunteer army is unsustainable. Chuvalo’s cognitive decline is progressive.
Mitch Chuvalo, 58, and his sister Vanessa, 50, are their father’s powers of attorney; they also have stewardship of him. They want him in his Toronto bungalow — one of three matrimonial properties in Joanne’s name as owner — supported by personal caregivers. But they say it’s a race against time: the siblings fear mounting legal fees and Chuvalo’s continuing decline may scuttle the home-living option.
“I think it’s really important he gets the assisted care he’s going to need,” says Mitch, who with Vanessa is speaking publicly about their father’s dementia for the first time to explain why they support his divorce proceedings.
“We’re all concerned about (the cognitive decline) because we see him on a daily basis … and his ability to have a line of reasoning that sees the big picture — that’s gone.”
Mitch and Vanessa say instructions to divorce Joanne always came from their father. In November of 2015, Mitch, as power of attorney, signed his father’s divorce application because evidence of Chuvalo’s short-term memory loss was already present. The couple had also lived apart for about two years by then.
Joanne resides in their Caledon home. The retired registered nurse claims she and Chuvalo never discussed divorce and that his children thwarted their attempts to reconcile.
“Attacking me for refusing to agree to a divorce neither I nor my husband ever wanted is a victim-blaming tactic,” Joanne stated in response to written questions from the Star, noting she and Chu- valo love each other.
“I will defend myself and my husband to the very end from Mitchell and Vanessa’s wish to divorce us.”
Joanne is appealing a judge’s January ruling that her husband does not possess the mental capacity to decide whether he wants to reunite. She has filed for guardianship of Chuvalo and says she can afford any additional home health care required. In addition, Joanne is running a social media campaign called “Bring George Chuvalo Home.”
Mitch, a Toronto high school teacher, says his father’s dementia has progressed noticeably since Chuvalo and Joanne last lived together — about five years ago. His son says the five-time Canadian boxing champion increasingly needs physical support, too; his aching knees don’t like stairs, for instance.
“We’re worried about her ability to take care of him in a dignified way,” says Mitch, referring to details regarding a 2015 wellness check on his “missing” father: a Peel mental-health worker, on scene with an OPP officer at the Caledon residence, wrote that Chuvalo was confused, unkempt and had a “large amount of animal hair all over” while in Joanne’s company.
“He is so fragile mentally, I hate to see him being taken advantage of, and that’s what it’s coming down to,” Mitch continues.
Joanne stated that she has been advised by her lawyer not to comment on a report she hasn’t seen. The Star had provided her with pertinent passages from the mental-health worker’s written observations.
Mitch and Vanessa contend Joanne is fighting the divorce “for personal and financial gain” at the expense of their dad’s precarious health.
“People need to know that my sister and I are motivated by our love for our father and the tragic history that we have,” says Mitch of the drug-related deaths of brothers Jesse, Georgie Lee and Steven and their mother, Lynne, a painful discussion that always opens “old wounds.”
“I don’t want to see it have another tragic ending.”
Chuvalo, in younger days, radiated a shining, larger-than-life presence. That wattage is dimming.
He can converse, certainly. Cheerfully speak with fans. He can also be withdrawn, as he was periodically at Pancer’s. His once-formidable memory is shorting out — most evident around twilight as the day darkens — which is heartbreaking to witness, Mitch says.
“He doesn’t know night or day,” Mitch says, describing his dad’s lapses. “He doesn’t know who’s alive, what month it is When he goes through that, it’s tough stuff to deal with but thank God he’s got people around him who can reconnect him,” Mitch continues, noting the engagement and relief provided by trusted friends.
Chuvalo’s children say they have no financial stake in their father’s holdings. They are not in Chuvalo’s will (his grandchildren are); they work full time, own their homes and are financially se- cure. They say they don’t begrudge Joanne her lawful share of money and property — they say they merely want a quick resolution to proceedings so money is freed up for their dad’s health care.
Vanessa is Chuvalo’s youngest child and only daughter. She says she’s saddened that Joanne, with whom she was once close, will not accept that her dad wants a divorce.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” Vanessa says, quietly.
“What day is it?” George Chuvalo asked the Toronto court clerk. The January civil trial to determine Chuvalo’s capacity to make informed decisions about his marriage was in a short recess. “Friday?” he guessed. “It’s Monday,” she replied. “Monday, Monday, bah, bah, bah, bah,
so good to me,” Chuvalo crooned softly, looking around. He was unexpectedly alone at a courtroom table. His lawyer had stepped out briefly. Chuvalo spied his wife sitting quietly across from him.
“Joanne,” he called out. “How are you?” “I have a bit of a headache,” she said. “That’s too bad. I hope it goes away.” Chuvalo rose to his feet and walked, with difficulty, to Joanne and sat down. He got teary; she hugged him. They said they loved each other. Joanne told him about her newborn grandson. They talked about visiting the baby but the discussion was interrupted by Vanessa, who’d been seated in the back of the courtroom; she urged her father to take his seat, while Joanne’s lawyer defended Chuvalo’s right to speak with his wife.
Voices were raised — Judge Frances Kiteley was not in the University Ave. courtroom — and Chuvalo stood. His lawyer Tanya Road had returned and as he ambled back to his attorney, Chuvalo piped up, to no one in particular:
“And in this corner … ,” he said, chuckling at his bang-on ring announcer impersonation. Chuvalo vs. Chuvalo is a complex matter.
His children say the courtroom incident is a snapshot of how easily manipulated their father can be. Joanne said her husband behaves affectionately to her “every time he is freed from Mitchell and Vanessa to see me.”
During that January trial, Kiteley appointed Ontario’s office of the Public Guardian and Trustee to represent Chu-
“He doesn’t know night or day. He doesn’t know who’s alive, what month it is.” MITCH CHUVALO LEFT, DESCRIBING HIS DAD’S LAPSES
valo in guardianship litigation. (It was agreed Chuvalo lacked the capacity to instruct counsel, and Road was dismissed.) Kiteley later ruled the former boxer “does not have the capacity to decide whether to reconcile with Joanne Chuvalo” but did not address his capacity regarding divorce.
Kiteley also encouraged the entrenched sides to “bury the hatchet” to best accommodate Chuvalo “in his remaining years while he continues to experience inevitable decline.”
George and Joanne Chuvalo began to live apart in 2013. Stories differ on how they separated.
Joanne blames it on an extended bedbug infestation at the Toronto bungalow. Chuvalo’s children say the couple had an argument and Joanne told their father to leave; he lived with Tom Doyle, a personal security professional, for two months, then moved into the bungalow.
Chuvalo granted his children power of attorney (Joanne disputes the agreement’s validity) in March of 2014. More of Chuvalo’s belongings were moved to Toronto from Caledon, including his sons’ cremated ashes, which he treasures.
Still, the couple would see each other. That rankled Chuvalo’s children, who say Joanne was wheedling cash from their dad during visits — a claim made in Mitch’s 2015 affidavit supporting his father’s divorce application. (These allegations have not been proven in court.)
Mitch and Vanessa also said the couple had income from a shared investment, about $8,000 monthly, but claim their father “had nothing” in his personal account when they began examining his finances as powers of attorney.
Joanne dismisses such talk as nonsense, noting she owns “a great deal more assets than does my husband.”
“Now that he is vulnerable and can be manipulated, they want what they see as his money, which is actually my money,” she stated.
The Chuvalos were together again, briefly, around Christmas of 2015 — about a month after divorce proceedings were filed.
A wellness check captured the scene at the Caledon dwelling when Mitch called police to report his father missing from the Toronto bungalow on Dec. 21. OPP Const. Nicholas Croll and Jenn Ward, a member of the Canadian Mental Health Association’s Peel branch, were dispatched to assess the situation, according to a “progress note” Ward wrote after the visit.
Ward wrote that the “client and his wife have a lengthy history of involvement with OPP related to domestic incidents.” Ward described Chuvalo as wearing soiled clothing and as “dishevelled, malodorous with extreme dandruff on his lapels and his hair observed to be quite greasy.”
Ward also noted Joanne “was limited in her engagements with the team” and left in a vehicle to buy cat food.
Chuvalo did not recognize Croll, whom he’d met several times, and was “confused as to how he had come to be with Joanne,” Ward wrote.
Chuvalo had actually ended up at the Caledon residence the previous night because Joanne came to his assistance.
On Dec. 20, Chuvalo was pulled over by another OPP officer, Const. Andrew Duncan, for driving erratically. Duncan recognized that Chuvalo was confused — he said he was going to visit his wife and got lost — and sent him to Etobicoke General Hospital to be evaluated, Duncan swore in a 2016 statement filed as part of Joanne’s guardianship application. Duncan suspended Chuvalo’s licence. Joanne was called to the hospital. She took her husband to Caledon that night.
After that wellness check, Chuvalo returned to live in Toronto, with his son and daughter bringing him to their homes for short stays.
In June of 2016, Mitch reported his dad missing again.
Joanne and George spent about10 days together and visited friends in Collingwood. During this time, Chuvalo signed a handwritten “revokation” (sic) of his power-of-attorney consent. He also missed his annual trip to the International Boxing Hall of Fame in Canastota, N.Y., and Muhammad Ali’s funeral, where he was to be a pallbearer, Mitch says. The last two dates were “really important events my father never would have missed,” Vanessa says.
When the couple returned to Caledon, acquaintances of Chuvalo’s arrived. Joanne says she was frightened when they blocked her car in and devastated when her husband was taken away again.
Chuvalo moved to a new home. But it wasn’t the last time he’d go “missing.”
Newmarket is a long way from Toronto’s west end, where Chuvalo was raised by hard-working Croatian immigrants. Where he and his first wife, Lynne, raised their five children.
Vanessa resides in the suburban region north of Toronto, where she’s a department manager for a natural food market. From June 2016 to July 2017, her father lived full-time with her and her daughters.
“It wasn’t particularly easy for me because I live a quiet life (and) my father’s a big figure,” she says, laughing.
“He wants to be out and about, and in Newmarket, he thought he was living in the country. He’s like: ‘I gotta go to Toronto.’ ” He missed his city friends. “My father’s a man’s man, he needed a little testosterone,” Vanessa says.
“He needed that kind of (male companionship); that’s what keeps my dad going.”
In July of 2017, Vanessa took a vacation with her daughters and found a highend respite residence for a temporary stay for her dad. Chuvalo then moved in with Mitch for most of August, until his son had to return to teach at University of Toronto Schools. Chuvalo relocated to a west-end seniors residence just a few minutes from Mitch’s family home.
On the night of Sept. 5, Joanne’s twin sister, Janet O’Hara, visited the residence with her mother and met Chuvalo. Janet later testified before Judge Kiteley that Chuvalo voluntarily left with Janet to meet Joanne. The residence staff was not alerted to Chuvalo’s departure. Mitch says by chance, a friend of his was there as a visitor; he recognized the famous boxer, sensed Chuvalo seemed disoriented in Janet’s company, then phoned Mitch immediately.
Chuvalo had left by the time Mitch phoned the seniors residence. He then called Doyle and police.
Police arrived at Janet’s Toronto home. (On a hunch Doyle says he drove there and spotted Joanne when she showed up.) Chuvalo was returned to Mitch, who explained to police he held power of attorney.
Mitch says he again had to find his dad new accommodations.
“We’re scared of them swooping in, creating documents for him to sign,” Mitch says of his dad being taken to meet Joanne without his knowledge.
For the past eight months, the Chuvalo support network has been busy.
Friends and family have pitched in to keep him active and engaged. He most often stays with Doyle — who lives in Brampton with his wife, Liz — and Mitch, but others fill in, too. Chuvalo has regular trips to the barber, the gym, coffee shops. He relishes eating out surrounded by gym buddies and fans; Doyle posts photos of the activities on social media, in part to help Chuvalo remember them.
“I lost my dad when I was young,” says Doyle, explaining his dedication to his friend. “George is like a dad to me.”
Doyle gets expense money from Mitch to cover additional care costs, such as restaurant meals, personal items and gas to drive Chuvalo to appointments and outings.
Michael Wekerle recalls how Chuvalo comforted him during dark times after his wife died in 2010. They had long talks; the older man’s wisdom, steeped in grief, was therapeutic for the younger man. Wekerle, whose late father had Alzheimer’s, says he’s pleased to be able to provide for Chuvalo now.
“George has fallen on hard times with this litigation and he’s fallen on hard times with his health,” says Wekerle, who also sends Chuvalo short video greetings regularly and invites him to events. “I wanted to help him any way I could.”
Wekerle felt it was important for Chuvalo to have state-of-the-art health care, which is why he foots the bill for the former fighter to get regular checkups at the Toronto Clinic in Yorkville. He also has diabetes, which is under control.
“I try to give him back his confidence and his dignity because he is George Chuvalo,” Wekerle says. “I really respect and admire him.”
When Chuvalo was diagnosed this year with prostate cancer, Doyle stepped up again. In March, he drove Chuvalo daily from his Brampton home to Toronto’s Princess Margaret Hospital for radiation treatments. Mitch took over the radiation runs during March break.
“You want to talk about a friend? A loving, caring friend?,” Mitch says, “That’s Tom.”
The cancer treatments appear to have been successful, as the disease was caught early.
Men and women in semi-formal attire mingled in the CBC building’s atrium, transformed into a swanky cocktail bar before the main event began upstairs — a fundraising boxing card for the Michael “Pinball” Clemons Foundation.
George Chuvalo stood at the edge of the crowd. Looking natty. And years younger than he is. People soon noticed him and approached to ask for a photo with the champ. Son Mitch, Tom Doyle and Lee Caprio stood off to the side, giving him space; they knew how Chuvalo would answer the bell.
The octogenarian dumped his cane. Took his stance: fists up, one foot forward. Leaning in close to those posing with him. His eyes were bright. The Canadian legend was in the moment.
“I’ve always called my dad a workingclass hero in the Canadian context, but as I’ve been hanging around him more, he’s much bigger than that,” says Mitch, describing fan interraction with his dad.
“He transcends that into something beautiful and magical and I want to see that honoured and supported.”
The boxing fundraiser was the same night as the provincial election. After the soiree at CBC, Chuvalo, Doyle and Caprio headed over to the campaign headquarters of premier-designate Doug Ford. Chuvalo has known the Ford family for decades; he supported the late Rob Ford as Toronto mayor and now, he’s cheering Doug.
On this night, Chuvalo had reserves of energy. He even posed by Ford’s bus for a hammy thumbs-up. That fount of energy is not always there, however. He also senses his memory and thought processes are failing, says Vanessa.
She remembers one of the first times her father confided his worries.
“I’m not well,” she recalls him telling her over lunch in 2015. “My brain is shrinking.” He would also say his mind was “cloudy.”
Mitch described a difficult moment earlier this year while he was making dinner for his dad. Chuvalo loves country music. Waylon Jennings was playing as they sat in Mitch’s kitchen. It was at that twilight moment of the day when Chuvalo struggles most.
“I was cooking and we were talking about old times and he says to me, ‘I don’t know who you are but you have great taste in music, and I can tell you are a very kind person,’ ” Mitch recounts.
“I said ‘You don’t know who I am, buddy?’ and he almost started to tear up and he said, ‘No.’ ”
Mitch told Chuvalo he was his son and his dad began to weep. Then the boxer asked: “How many sons do I have?” “Well, you’ll always have four sons,” Mitch responded, getting emotional. “How many of you are alive?” “It’s just me, Dad.” Mitch reminded Chuvalo he also had a daughter. “What’s her name?” “Try to remember, Dad.” Chuvalo said nothing. Then: “Vanessa.”
When Mitch finishes telling the story, he and Vanessa are silent for a moment. They are not comfortable airing private matters. But they say protecting their father, now vulnerable and dependent, compels them.
“Ever since I was a kid, two types of people enjoyed being around my father,” Mitch says. “Those who liked to live off his reputation and star factor and those people who really, sincerely cared about him as an individual. I think I’m as wellversed as anybody in being able to distinguish between those two camps and I’ll just leave it at that.”