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Somebody showed me a picture of myself the other day taken one Saturday at the now defunct Newman-Herman’s Gym in San Francisco. The reason why I can say for a fact that this was a Saturday was that the gym was empty and I had the ring to myself. But as I gazed into the picture, thoughts of an era when San Francisco was a boxing capital of sorts, which was long before my time, came to mind. This was an era that the old-timers would talk about while I was cutting my teeth in the gym as a railbird. [details]