Dale Grable, former Michigan boxing commissioner, thought about it, and couldn’t believe it. “Jeez, 50 years ago,” he sighed, amazed at the passage of time.
Yep, it’s been that long, a half century, in 1964, when the sports world would be turned head over heels by a single event. In a time of continued civil rights struggles, one Cassius Clay, who would later become Muhammad Ali, would post one of the biggest upsets in boxing history and begin building his resume not only as one of the most well-known figure in sports, but as an icon for humanity.
At that time, boxing was still one of the country’s most popular sports, despite the end of the Joe Louis era in the late 1940s. During the 1950s, fighters such as Ezzard Charles, Floyd Patterson and Ingemar Johansson took their turns as heavyweight champions, but they were nothing like the Brown Bomber.
In the 50s, there were fights on TV all the time. The Gillette Calvacade of Sports and Friday Night Fights were only a few of shows featuring established fighters. There were even several syndicated TV programs on boxing, including the one I remember, Joe Palooka., all telecast in magnificent black and white when many families were fortunate enough to have even one TV set. I was too young to remember details, but I do remember a spirited theme song and the Palooka character hammering away at the speed bag when the show aired. Those televised boxing shows had all but dried up by the 1960s.
But real fighters fought on. Patterson was a hero of sorts, especially after regaining the title he lost to Johansson, who was from Sweden, and bringing the title back to America. He was quiet, humble and unassuming.
But big bad Sonny Liston came down the pike with a reputation for contempt and destruction. Before there was Mike Tyson, there was Liston, a powerful puncher with dynamite in both fists. He pulverized Patterson in one round in 1962 to claim the heavyweight championship. Liston, though, with little education, a criminal background and alleged mob connections, was a questionable vanguard for boxing. Yet, no one could question his power and brute force in the ring.
Enter Clay, who won a gold medal in the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome. This 22-year old fighter was loud, self-promoting, obnoxious, chatty and controversial from the start. At every opportunity, he told everyone he would whip Liston and become champ. With his boastful demeanor, he ruffled everybody — whites, conservative blacks, the establishment and all people between — but he didn’t care.
“Back at that time, I wasn’t an Ali fan,” said Grable, who joined millions with the same sentiments. “I also wasn’t an Angelo Dundee (Clay’s trainer) fan either because he used to pull so much crap.”
Most people couldn’t wait for the powerful Liston to shut Ali’s mouth with his fists, as suddenly, this fight became one in which everyone was interested to see the outcome — a knockout by the heavily favored Liston.
“I was a student at Michigan State at the time,” recalled Dr. Stuart Kirschenbaum, former Michigan boxing commissioner and native New Yorker. “I remember being all excited bcause of the aura of Sonny Liston being invicible and the big mouth of Cassius Clay. It was a fight between two bad guys. He (Liston) had this persona of being unbeatable. He was mean, he was strong, and then you had Cassius Clay, talented, (but) braggadocious. They thought he never had a chance.”
Indeed, almost unanimously, sportswriters, boxing experts and everyday people agreed that Clay would be pulverized by Liston.
I was nowhere near Miami Beach, where the fight was held, Feb. 25, 1964. But I listened to the fight on the radio and, like millions of others, couldn’t believe my ears. I thought a man absent of humility and sportsmanship would get his just due. But he didn’t. Those expecting the early knockout that didn’t happen were shocked. And as the fight wore on, and the announcer narrated the unlikely proceedings in Ali’s favor, they were awed.
To be sure, when Liston failed to answer the bell for the seventh round, Clay had completed the upset and celebrated wildly. “I shook up the world,” he cried, as pandemonium broke out in the ring.
But that was only the beginning. Shortly afterward, he announced he was a Black Muslim, and his name was changed to Muhammad Ali. “We thought of the Muslims as black power situation,” Kirschenbaum said, “and we started hating Clay a little more.”
Meanwhile, America, burdened with internal problems, seemed to turn on itself. Civil rights protests seemed to accelerate. Athletes seemed to be more vocal on the social issues bearing down on the country. And as the Vietnam War escalated, so did the backlash on college campuses across the land. Ali was at the forefront of civil rights, and as a draftee who refused to be inducted into the military, a symbol of the growing unpopularity of the war.
And it started with that victory over Liston to earn the heavyweight title.
“One thing I respected about Clay after that fight, I remember him wearing a suit and tie to press conferences,” Kirschenbaum said. “The heavyweight championship back in those days was the most prestigious title in all of sports, and he said I will dress appropriately as the position entails.”
That position, as heavyweight champ, was the foundation of a world-wid legacy of epic proportions.
Marvin Goodwin covers boxing for The Oakland Press. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org; @marvingoodwin.