By J Russell Peltz

Willie “The Worm” Monroe was boxing a six-rounder against Ted Hamilton, a scrawny white kid out of Fairmount, WV.  This was in April 22, 1970, at the Blue Horizon.  I was 22 years old;  Monroe was 23 and he had won all four of his pro fights by knockout.  We billed Hamilton as the middleweight champion of West Virginia which didn’t quite carry the same weight as, say, the middleweight champion of New York.

Hamilton’s record was 1-10.  He had been knocked out eight times in six different cities.   I found out yesterday that he had been knocked in Ohio just four days prior to fighting Willie.  Boxrec.com and Fight Fax did not exist in 1969 and boxing promotion was the Wild West.  Hamilton, 34, came to the weigh-in the morning of the fight carrying a pair of white cotton shorts, the kind we wore during gym class in high school.  When I realized these were his boxing trunks, I told him to hide them somewhere, anywhere, so the commissioners couldn’t see them.  I had been in business only eight months but I could tell by looking at Hamilton what he was in for.

That night, in the Blue Horizon dressing room, I went to Willie’s cubicle and asked him to do me a favor and “carry” Hamilton for a few rounds.  He nodded his approval.  You know what happened.  Outweighed by eight pounds, Willie knocked Hamilton out in 46 seconds.  He hit him so hard with a right hand that Hamilton broke a bone in his left ankle and spent the night in the hospital.  When I asked Willie why he did that, I cannot remember if he gave me a verbal response or just shrugged his shoulders.  Hamilton went on to lose 31 out of 32 pro fights, 26 by knockout.  He passed away in 2012 at the age of 76.

Willie Monroe passed away Saturday, June 22, 2019.  He was 73.  I had not seen him since the dedication of the Joe Frazier statue in September, 2015, in South Philadelphia and that was my fault, not his.  You plan to visit someone, bring them some DVDs of some of their fights they never have seen, but you never take the time to do it.  Nothing but regrets!

I remember the first time I saw Willie.  Yank Durham brought him to Champs Gym in the fall of 1969.  Joe Frazier’s Gym on North Broad Street was not yet built.  Champs then was located a few yards from where Columbia Avenue (now Cecil B. Moore) turns into Ridge Avenue in North Philly.  It was a second-floor walkup over the aptly named Roach’s Café.

Willie came from Rochester, NY, and he said his amateur record was 43-0, 37 knockouts.  We would have as much trouble verifying that as we did verifying records of pro boxers back then.  Roland Marshall, a North Philly middleweight who was having his own way sparring with most guys, went a few rounds with Willie.  It was an eye-opener.  Willie was all over Marshall, who didn’t have the strength to use any kind of leverage. 

We scheduled Willie for his pro debut Oct. 28, 1969, at the Blue Horizon.  He had signed to fight another pro debut—Richie Kates, of Vineland, NJ.  What an opener that would have been!  Kates eventually turned into a 175-pound contender and twice boxed for the world title.  But Willie hit the scale at 157 apounds; Kates was 172.  We scrapped the fight due to the 10-round weight differential rule in Pennsylvania.

Willie finally turned pro Nov. 11 at the Blue Horizon and blew away Florida’s Vince Neratka (3-0-1) in one round.  Philadelphia Daily News boxing writer Tom Cushman was impressed and mentioned it at the end of his post-fight story the next day.  (Cushman belongs on the International Hall of Fame ballot as much as any journalist). Featherweight Sammy Goss decisioned Billy Wade over 10 rounds in the main event.

Suddenly, I had two knockout punchers on my hands:  Monroe and Eugene “Cyclone”  Hart.  I promoted 15 shows that first season, Sept. 30, 1969 to May 18, 1970.  Hart scored 10 consecutive knockouts; Monroe six.  They were on a collision course.

Monroe was managed and trained by Yank Durham so it was both a benefit and a curse to be in the same stable with Joe Frazier.  You benefit by being placed on the undercard of Frazier’s big fights, but there was room for only one guy on the pedestal and it wasn’t Monroe.

Willie knocked out his first 13 opponents before winning a decision over Alvin Phillips in New Orleans on the undercard of Frazier’s title defense against Terry Daniels on the eve of the 1972 Super Bowl. Willie won his first 19 fights, 16 by knockout.  Then, in a move uncharacteristic for Yank, he took Willie to Paris where he lost his unbeaten record via 10-round split decision to Max Cohen, a world-class French middleweight.

Willie and Hart eventually had their showdown early in 1974 before a crowd of more than 10,000 at The Spectrum.  Yank had passed away five months earlier.  Eddie Futch took over and he knew the value of inner-city rivalries, coming from his days training fighters for matches at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles.  Monroe played it safe and boxed his way to a unanimous decision over Hart.  It was one of many career highlights for him.  Other wins came over Stanley “Kitten” Hayward, Billy “Dynamite” Douglas, Carlos Marks (twice), Jose Gonzales, Don Cobbs, but none bigger than the fight he won on March 9, 1976, also at The Spectrum.

That was the night he became, in my opinion, the only man ever to decisively whip Marvelous Marvin Hagler.  It was Willie’s greatest night and there is no video of it.  A snowstorm the day of the fight prevented our film crew from getting to The Spectrum.  More than 3,000 diehard fans took the subway to get there and they witnessed a classic.  Willie stood in there and went punch-for-punch with Marvin.  Every round was a war but Willie won at least seven of them.  Hagler, who had been the victim, in most everybody’s opinion, of a bad decision two months earlier against Boogaloo Watts in the same ring, could not understand how Willie could have lost to Watts (he did, late in 1974) but be so much better 17 months later.  “I’ve got a lot to learn” Hagler said after losing to Monroe.

Of course, Hagler beat Willie the next two times they boxed but nothing can take away from that first fight.  Losing to Marvin Hagler happened to a lot of talented 160-pounders back in the day.

There was video of Monroe’s 1974 win over “Dynamite” Douglas, Buster’s dad, but the 16mm film was stolen out of Nigel Collins’ car the night we rode together to Frazier’s gym to watch some sparring.

Willie retired in 1981 with a deceiving 39-10-1 record (26 K0s).  He lost six of his last 10 when he no longer was the Willie Monroe we once knew.  He had one gallant last stand when he stood in the pocket for 10 rounds with a young Curtis Parker in 1979 at The Spectrum, losing by decision in another all-Philly classic, a Changing of the Guard as they say.  Willie was 30 at the time and 30 was old for those days.  Parker was 20.

Willie worked in Pennsylvania as a referee for awhile, but never seemed comfortable in that role.  He refereed like he boxed, sometimes unsure of himself.  I’m not convinced Willie ever had the confidence to match his ability as a fighter.  He had good size, good range, boxing ability and power.  At times, I believe he doubted his own skills.  It’s hard to tell how far he could have gone with just a little more self-confidence.  Yet on two of his greatest nights, he fought tough.  One was the win over Hagler in their first fight.  The second was his heroic late-career stand against Parker. 

Of the three young middleweights from Philly back then—Monroe, Hart, Watts—I had the best relationship with Willie.  In those days I lived in the Philly gyms in the evening.  Willie and I would joke around, make fun of each other, talk about things outside of boxing.  He loved Bennie Briscoe and I remember him leaping into the Spectrum ring in 1976 to congratulate Briscoe the night Bennie knocked out Hart in the first round of their rematch. 

One by one they’re leaving me.  Frazier and George Benton—who trained Monroe for the first Hagler fight—died in 2011;  Briscoe in 2010; Matthew Saad Muhammad in 2014.  Now Willie.  Those were wonderful days.  I have the memories and the films.  It just doesn’t seem like it’s enough.