A night of sport, pomp, legend ... and America
March 8, 1971. Madison Square Garden. Ali-Frazier I.
Fifty years ago tomorrow night, March 8, 1971, some 20,000 extraordinarily lucky people convened in Madison Square Garden for the Fight of the Century by which all other Fights of the Century before or since shrivel in comparison.
When heavyweights Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier met in the same ring after years of anticipation, they were a combined 57-0, but it was not merely the first time in boxing’s not-always-glorious history that two unbeatens fought for the heavyweight title. It was an event so overwrought with social, cultural, political and historical allegories that, to mangle a revered John Prine lyric, “if dreams were lightning, thunder were desire, (that) old house would have burnt down.”
“Another writer called the other day,” International Boxing Hall of Famer Russell Peltz told me on the phone from Philadelphia this past week. “He said, ‘It was probably the same as Pacquiao-Mayweather.’ I said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ It could never have been as big.
Muhammad Ali was the most famous person on earth for much of his life.”
Peltz, a legendary fight promoter, was among the remaining eye witnesses, owner of a $20 balcony seat hestood overnight in the Manhattansnow to attain. Andhe didn’t have to. That’s anotherstory that simply mustbe told again.
“Frazierwent to the Catskills to train, but the weatherwas so bad and the snowso deep he couldn’t run,”said Peltz, who was then24 and had begun promotingfights in Philadelphia lessthan two years earlier. “Sohe came back to Philly to trainat his gym, and his son Marviswas collecting money atthe door — $ 2 a pop — to watchhim, so I went in there oneday and paid my two bucks,and Yank Durham [Joe’strainer] pulled me asideand he had about 20 compsfor the fight, 23 tickets andhe wanted to make some extramoney selling them but hecould get caught doing it himself.He asked me to sell themfor him and whatever I soldon top of the face value wewould split.
“ButI was young and I wasn’tstreet smart, so I sold all the tickets at face value, butone was for $150. At the timeI was probably making $4,000promoting fights, a year.So that was worth a lot I wrestled with it. I didn’t knowwhat to do. I finally soldit to a guy who ran a bar inCenter City that had sold tickets for my fights.
“Thenight of the fight, I wasin the first row of the top tierof the Garden with my binoculars,and I’m looking formy friend from the bar, andthere he is, in the front rowwith Frank Sinatra and DianaRoss and Burt Lancasterand I thought, ‘that couldhave been you, you jerk.’”
Anybodywho was anybody,as that weary saying goes,roared as one at the openingbell of a 15-round balletof welts and blood, swellingand yelling, endless heartand bottomless soul.
A flood of writing brilliance got poured into defining the magnitude of the moment— Norman Mailer was atring side for Life Magazine for God’s sake — but a good summaryc an be found in “Once There Were Giants,” a book on that era by the redoubtable New Jersey sports columnist Jerry Izenberg.
“America was being divided by the Vietnam War as never before,” he wrote of the yearsafter Ali refused to be drafted. “Hippies were against it — and thus Ali supporters— were pitted againstthe hard hats who werefor it. African Americans who were heavily for Alias their black hero didn’t stop to realize that Ali at the time was opposed to the racial integration that most of themprized, while Frazier was for it. At the same time, manywhites who disliked Alion racial grounds treated Frazier as their black representative. Finally, misdirected white
people seemed to be split generation ally: most of the older onessupported Frazier, and theyounger ones of military agesupported Ali. Each of thesegroups seemed to forgetthat, as dramatic as the story was, this was still just a prizefight between two very goodheavyweight boxers.”
Aliwas 4 inches taller thanFrazier and, that night, about10 pounds heavier. He hada 7-inch reach advantage andhis incomparable jab stungevery inch of Frazier’s facein the early rounds. Ali’s ring-masteryand showmanshipwere at play as well, particularlyon the occasions that Frazier’s calamitous left hookripped into his ribs in themiddle rounds. Ali smiledand wobbled his kneesto mock his opponent. Frazier, according to Izenberg, thought Ali was trying tolure him into a trap, and backedaway. Reality was thatAli was truly hurt. Had Frazierattacked in those moments,the fight might have beena lot shorter.
Butthe banging continued longinto the night. The Gardenaudience was boiling. Closed circuit theater audiencesaround the world weretransfixed. Mutual Radiobroadcast round-by round summaries ripped fromthe AP and UPI wires. Nelson Mandela, from an African jail, pleaded for details.
Frazier,then 27, the 12th childof a one-armed South Carolinafarmer, began to takecontrol. By the 15th round,he led on all three judges’ cards, and the left hookhad one more appointment.It crashed into Ali’s jawa half second after The Greatestmissed with the murderousright he had intended to end it.
Aliwent down hard, got upfast, and no doubt started tothink about how he would spinthis to his favor, as he
haddone time and again and wouldfor most of the next decade.
“Theknockdown was perfect; it was the perfect ending, youcouldn’t have scripted it any better,” said Peltz. “It wasjust the whole thing, the liberals, the conservatives, Frazierbeing unjustly labeledan Uncle Tom by Ali, which was just unconscionable. All of it was wrapped up inthat knockdown.”
Theywould fight twice more,with Ali winning both, andAli would win the title twicemore, against George Foremanand Leon Spinks. Andwhile all those moments packedsuitable drama, there was never again a night remotely resembling March 8, 1971.