boxing

Timothy Freeman Edgerton, whose distinguished life as a citizen of Genesee County included winning a Golden Gloves championship in 1977 in Texas, died at age 62 at home in Oakfield on May 7.

He is the last known boxer with roots in Batavia to have won a championship.

His obituary was released today.

Edgerton was born Aug. 6, 1960 in Batavia. He graduated from Byron-Bergen and attended GCC for a year. He then transferred to Sam Houston State University in Texas, where he majored in Criminal Justice.

As a youth, Edgerton was captivated by boxing stories of his uncle Norman, who once battled for a Golden Gloves title and lost. In 1976, he took boxing lessons in Rochester. He was unable to get on a Golden Gloves card in Buffalo -- for some reason, the only names drawn were all Buffalo residents, so he hung up his gloves for a little bit.

He moved to Houston, and while there, he decided to try again to compete for a Golden Glove title.  While signing up, he was recruited by a boxing team, Cut and Shoot, Texas.

They were a few boxers short for the team, Edgerton told The Batavian in 2013 in an exclusive interview. They could provide people to work his corner. That way, Ederton got help, and if he scores any points, the Cut and Shoot team gets the points.

That sounded like a fair deal, Edgerton said.

"Of course, they had no idea what my skill level was," Ederton said. "They just went into it blind, kind of like I went with them blind."

From The Batavian's 2013 story: 

Then this man from Cut and Shoot, Texas, had another proposal for the 174-pound fighter.

"The guy says, 'What would you think about fighting as a heavyweight?' and I said, 'Are you kidding me?' "

Edgerton would be giving up at least 25 pounds to every fighter he faced.

"You'll be giving up a lot of weight, but you're quick, you're fast," the man said. "Jab and move, stay away from them, try to score some points. Your chances are better as a heavyweight. I know some of the kids in the lightweight division. They're really good. I don't know you, but that's the best I can offer."

Edgerton and Lettie talked it over. The man, whom Edgerton still didn't know from a fence post, seemed to know what he was talking about.

After winning the preliminary bouts, Edgerton was facing a man 45 pounds heavier in the finals.

"He had had to go 220, maybe 225 pounds," Edgerton said. "He was bigger. He was taller. And I won. I don't know how. Maybe out of fear. But I was able to take it to him pretty good.

"It did work out where he was bigger and stronger, but he was slower," Edgerton added. "I could outmaneuver his punches, you know, duck. A couple of times, he swung, and I could just literally feel the air rush overhead. If he ever hit me, I would have been gone. They would have been carrying me out."

The fight went all three rounds, and for a moment, Edgerton thought he could score a knockout.

"In the third round, I almost had enough to put him down," Edgerton said. "He was stumbling back into the ropes, but I didn't have enough.

"In my corner, they yelled out, 'stick and move, stick and move, you got the fight won, just stick and move,' so that's what I did," Edgerton added. "I got on the bicycle, and started sticking, moving, moving, sticking. He couldn't catch me. He was tired. I was in better shape, thank God, and I ended up winning."

With the victory, Edgerton won his Golden Gloves title, and as a heavyweight. Those points also put the team from Cut and Shoot, Texas, over the top for a team championship.

That was Edgerton's last fight. He finished with a career record of 19-6.

Edgerton married Lettie, whom he met in Texas. 

He wanted to return home, but couldn't land a crime-fighting job in Genesee County. He went to work for the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, living in Detroit for a while.

Eventually, the job brought him back to Batavia

In 1993, he developed Operation Child Intercept, which has been adopted nationwide, to combat the illicit transportation of missing and abducted children across the international borders into the U.S.

Edgerton served on the Oakfield-Alabama Central School District board for 15 years and was an advocate for student rights, improved school nutrition, and diversity and inclusion. He also served as President and a key member of the Elementary Community School Organization (ECSO), where he helped bring skating parties, winter carnivals, public speakers, and countless other special events to the students and larger community each year.

How about some oysters, libations, and a little exercise to liven up your Thursday?

Boxing and Brews will provide just that for $5 at Farmer's Creekside Tavern. Anyone can participate in the event hosted by the Le Roy restaurant and Beyondriven Fitness and Performance’s BeyondBoxing program, co-owner Casey Mehlenbacher says.

The event is set to begin at 6 p.m. Thursday at the tavern, 1 Main St., Le Roy.

“You do not need to be a Beyondriven member to sign up. No previous boxing experience is required,” Mehlenbacher said.

“Boxing gloves will also be provided if you do not have your own. BeyondBoxing is an eight-round, 45-minute workout that incorporates boxing combined with accessory movements designed to burn fat and help tone muscle.”

Class will be “upbeat, high energy, and most importantly, fun,” Mehlenbacher said.

“We constantly hear from attendees how the time ‘flew by' and how much they enjoyed the class,” he said.

This is a first-time Boxing and Brews event at Creekside. All attendees will receive a free drink token that can be redeemed at the bar after the workout. Creekside will also be running specials for buy-one-get-one-free drinks and $1 oysters after the class.

Participants are asked to show up by 5:50 p.m. to get ready for class on the south deck of the tavern. The rain date will be Sept. 1.

Why offer a boxing fitness class at a restaurant? To build muscle and burn fat, of course, in an upbeat, fast-paced environment, Mehlenbacher said.

“We also are strong believers in supporting local businesses and engaging in positive community-building events. We are certain that this Boxing and Brews event will meet all of the above criteria,” he said.

Register HERE.

Photo from farmerscreekside.com

(Photo from 1953 Golden Gloves fight "Franny Bond (left) vs. Edson Brown" from the archives of the New York Daily News.)

By Tim Bojarski, for Batavia Downs

Batavia, NY --- Francis R. Bond, 86, a longtime owner, driver and trainer at Batavia Downs and Buffalo Raceway, died peacefully Tuesday morning, Dec. 26, at United Memorial Medical Center in Batavia.

“Franny” Bond was born in Buffalo on July 27, 1931. He became a Marine after leaving school and began boxing while in the service in the Armed Forces Title Fights.

He fought in the lightweight class and eventually worked into the featherweight division. The then 126-pound “fighting Marine” was described as “a game and lively scrapper who could take a hit and come back with a better one.”

Corporal Bond became one of the Marines' top boxers, winning a featherweight title in 1953 while often times fighting men from the professional ranks between service bouts and sometimes competing in higher weight classes.  

Bond continued to fight professionally in the Golden Gloves after he left the service under the name Bobby Bond and was trained by Angelo Dundee who also conditioned the likes of Muhammad Ali, George Foremen, Sugar Ray Leonard and Carmen Basilio. He competed in 15 professional fights all over the Eastern Seaboard including New York City at Madison Square Garden.

Bond first got involved in harness racing in 1966 and eventually got his trainer and driver’s licenses. He ran a small stable for the next 39 years, seeing most of his driving success in the 1970s (where he scored 135 of his 189 careers victories) and most of his training accomplishments (total of 108) between 1990 and 2000. Bond also occasionally catch-drove horses when the opportunity arose.

Bond’s last winning effort came on May 16, 1996 behind H F Harriet at Buffalo Raceway.

Bond was an entrepreneur and made a buck anyway he could. He owned a soft drink distributorship, ran the track kitchen at Batavia Downs and sold hay, straw and feed for many years while, and after, he was competing himself. He was known by everyone on the backstretch and was an affable individual his entire life.

No memorial information has been relayed. 

Ray Ciancaglini had the heart of a champion.

At age 16 in 1969, he thought nobody could beat him. He would eventually become, he was sure, the middleweight champion of the world.

He was an honor student. A supurb athlete. A good, kind friend. He was ready to take on the world.

Boxers are supposed to be tough. The old men in the sport told him getting hit in the head was just part of the game. Ignore the headaches, they told him.

"Son, you have to deal with these headaches," one trainer told him. "You have everything it takes to get to the next level of the game. You have to be able to dish it out and take it. If not, then this game isn't for you."

Back in the day, trainers, athletes and even some medical professionals had a poor understanding of concussions. The wisdom of the day was that you weren't really injured, you really didn't suffer a concussion, unless you were knocked out.

Today, we know better.

Concussions have become a hot topic in the sports world at all levels. Earlier in the Fall, PBS's "League of Denial" shined a light on the NFL's apparent disregard for decades of mounting evidence that concussions needed to be taken more seriously.

New research shows high school athletes in all sports -- even cheerleading -- are at some risk of suffering a concussion during competition (fewer concussions are reported in practices). The high risk sports are football, lacrosse and girls soccer.

As Ciancaglini, a member of the Rochester Boxing Hall of Fame, spoke to an auditorium of student athletes and parents at Batavia High School on Thursday night, he said he didn't want to scare anybody, nor did he want to discourage any teen from playing any sport, but he does want to drive home the message: take concussions seriously.

He didn't, he said, and he paid the price.

"Never take for granted the privilege of playing a sport you love," Ciancaglini said. "Make wise decisions. This will be necessary for you to realize your full potential.

"If I had it all to do over again, would still pursue a boxing career?" Ciancaglini added. "Absolutely. I would still compete with the same tenacity and dedication it takes to be a champion. The only thing I would do differently is get immediate medical attention for the injuries my body was telling me I suffered."

Ciancaglini called concussions the invisible injury. There's no cut, no bump, no swelling that shows a trainer, a coach, a fellow player that you've been injured.

But any concussion can have far more devastating consequences. Concussions can lead to permanent brain injury, lifelong physical ailments and even death.

For Ciancaglini, the life-changing event was a bout in Buffalo in 1969. He took a right hook to the back of his head that wrung his bell.

"I didn't go down, but I was dazed," Ciancaglini said. "My vision was blurred. My hearing was impaired. The crowd noise alternated from muffled to loud. I had never experienced this feeling before. I fought through it and won a unanimous decision."

The next day, Ciancaglini had a headache and felt fatigued. He chalked it up to a tough bout.

"I passed it off as being physically run down," Ciancaglini said.

He had a big bout scheduled for the next week in Syracuse. There was no way he was going to miss it. He went right back to training.

The headaches and fatigue persisted, but he ignored the symptoms.

"I should have gotten medical attention, but I just didn't think it was that serious," Ciancaglini said. "Little did I know this was the beginning of my troubles."

Ciancaglini tried to continue his boxing career, even though he didn't feel as sharp as he once did. To compensate for his sense of sluggishness, he boxed less and brawled more. And he kept winning.

As he spoke to coaches and trainers about his falling grades, missed classes, his increased irritability, his peristent headaches, they told him to tough it out.

He was even honored for toughing it out, receiving the Golden Gloves Heart Award.

"My life was falling apart and I thought the symptoms were temporary and would go away," Ciancaglini said. "I thought I could work through it and didn't want to miss my next opportunity. I didn't want to lose my ranking. I thought boxing was my whole life. This is how I was lulled into making some bad decisions."

Finally, he decided to take a break from boxing, but after months away from the sport, he still felt in a constant fog. The headaches wouldn't go away. 

He got a job at Kodak and when his hands started to tremble or he became forgetful, his workers tried to cover for him, even as he spilled chemicals.

Finally, his deteriorating condition was too much of a safety hazard so Kodak sent him to Strong Memorial Hospital for an evaluational.

The diagnosis: permanent brain damage caused by untreated concussions.

Today, Ciancaglini is 62 years old. There hasn't been a day in his life since he was 16 that he hasn't suffered from headaches.

The headaches started with that first concussion in Buffalo, and because he didn't realize he had suffered a concussion, he ignored the symptoms.

His hands shake constantly and he suffers from mild dementia.

All a result of those untreated and ignored concussions.

"I threw away a whole career for the sake of not missing one fight," Ciancaglini said. "What a foolish mistake. I challenged a concussion and I got beat."

The message Ciancaglini wants to sink in with young athletes: If you have the slightest doubt something is wrong, check it out. The game you sit out today could be the career you save tomorrow.

That's why Ciancaglini will show up at just about any high school in the Northeast and speak to students about his experience with concussions, and he does it for free.

For more about Ciancaglini, visit his Web site, "The Second Impact."

The most dangerous concussion, Ciancaglini said, is the mild one. It's the easist to ignore. It's the one peers will tell you to ignore, but if not treated it makes the second concussion much more serious. Any athlete who suffers a concussion should sit it out until all symptoms have disappeared. For a list of symptoms, click here.

They called him the Bellevue Bomber because he had "one of the most devastating lefts" seen in Schenectady in a long time, but alas, in a 1947 bout billed as the "fight of the year" in Schenectady, Mike Sallee fell to Tony Barone in a five-round decision.

"Hard-hitting Barone, who was the aggressor throughout, hit Sallee almost at will and came close to ending the scrap in the first round," according to a newspaper account of the match.

Sallee -- who had notched 38 KOs as an amateur prior to meeting Barone -- began his boxing career with the Batavia Boxing Club as Micheal Saquella.

The boxer's son, Alan, came across our series on local boxers and sent us information about Sallee.

Alan doesn't know why his father fought under the name Sallee (pictured left above with two unidentified men), but he had a pretty good record. As an amateur going into the Barone fight, he had been in the ring 55 times with 44 wins. Beyond that, there isn't much available his fighting history that we can find. He's listed as club member #35 in Butch Zito's write-up on the Batavia Boxing Club, but there's no further information on him in the book.

He appears to have transferred Schtady as some point in his boxing career and hailed as a local boxer in the Schenectady papers of the period.

The pre-fight write-ups on Sallee are glowing in their appraisal of his ring prowess, but it was also clear he was in for a tough scrap with Barone.

"With both lads packing dynamite in either fist and boasting fine records, the betting is quoted as even money," wrote an unidentified sports reporter. "Plenty of dough is expected to change hands no matter who wins as both welterweights have a lot of followers."

If you come across Batavia boxing history in your family, send clips and pictures to howard@thebatavian.com.

This weekend, MMA fighters from Hands Up Gym on Harvester Avenue had a strong showing at a tournament in Jamestown.

Josh McCarthy won his first bout.

From left are, William Rupp, who also won his first kickboxing bout, and fifth from the left on the top row is Shariff Vascianne who won his first boxing bout.

Gym owner Joe Bailey is holding up the Hands Up shirt.

This tournament was an exhibition so it does not count toward their record.

Also pictured, on the right, Alexander Colon Colon, who won a traditional boxing bout. Also pictured is Colon Colon's instructor, Mr. Platt. At the far right is Gaffar Adams who is the owner of the gym in Jamestown.

Article written by Angelo Prospero. Prospero is a native of Batavia and grew up knowing many of the local boxers from Batavia's Golden Age of Boxing. He became a boxing writer and boxing historian of some note. He holds degrees in history from Conisius College and taught history at Trident Technical College in Charleston, S.C. He currently resides in Summerville, S.C. He's written for "Ring," the Batavia Daily News, "Boxing Illustrated," "Boxing Digest" and "Unitas Boxing World." He also wrote a book on boxing, "Great Fights and Fighters." Prospero has also been a ringside judge for professional boxing matches. Prospero provided us with the pictures, as well.

Mickey Devine

Patrons of Marshall’s News Store on Jackson Street in Batavia during the 1930s heard the sounds of shuffling feet, speed bags, heavy bags and shadow boxers skipping ropes upstairs as they purchased their newspapers and magazines.

The entire second floor was the home of the Batavia Boxing Club, the brainchild of Batavia businessman John DiCarlo, called by many the Father of Batavia Boxing.

DiCarlo, husband of famous artist Rose Pontillo DiCarlo, was a boxer, teacher, trainer and matchmaker who loved the sport. He was promoting his young brother, Ponce DiCarlo and was appalled at the lack of training facilities. Missing were a ring, showers, equipment and other paraphernalia that goes with a boxing gymnasium. So he took out a yearly lease and with his chief assistant, Tony Gaeta, renovated the upstairs Jackson Street area, making it as fine a place as any in Western New York.

It featured a homemade ring and DiCarlo used his own money to purchase all the equipment and gloves, and formed the BBC. Dues were one dollar a week and the initial response was slow as DiCarlo and Gaeta promoted the career of young Ponce, who became a sensation with a long win streak all over New York State and the surrounding areas.

About this time, the Great Depression hit and many unemployed youngsters flocked to the gym filling it to capacity. It was the Golden Age of Batavia Boxing. Teams were dispatched to Buffalo, Syracuse, Frank Powderly’s Elks Club in Rochester, Cleveland and even New York’s famed Daily News national competition in Madison Square Garden.

Tony Sciolino of Buffalo was a brilliant featherweight who won just about every honor in his hometown and decided to turn professional. He was engaged to a lovely Batavia Miss, Margaret Fusco, of Ellicott Street, who lived near Ellicott Square at Liberty and Ellicott streets. Sciolino was the nephew of John D. Gioia, civic leader and pharmacist.

Since Sciolino was spending so much time in Batavia, Gioia decided to install a makeshift gym behind his pharmacy on Ellicott Street and Sciolino did most of his training there. How good was Sciolino? He defeated world featherweight champion Tommy Paul and fought a draw with Wes Ramey, who this last June, was inducted into the Canastota Boxing Hall of Fame.

Mr. Gioia also convinced Father William Kirby of St. Anthony’s Church to purchase a ring and equipment and put it in the corner of the Community Center on Liberty Street. The Center was financed by the many Bingo nights held there by Reverend Kirby and the gym was portable enough to be disassembled easily and stored in the cavernous bowels of the Center. Many times the boxers-in-training there disassembled the gym themselves with the aid of the school kids at the nearby St. Anthony’s School, so Bingo could be played.

Around the corner on Central Avenue, was the home of the Cintorino family. Ma and Pa Cintorino made a living selling Treadeasy Shoes (made in Batavia) to support their six boys. The second eldest, Joseph, dropped in the gym where Sciolino trained and quickly showed excellence under the tutelage of Sciolino, displaying a stinging left jab and defensive prowess.

Ironically, the teacher and pupil would meet in the ring professionally in a few years. To prevent his father from finding out he was fighting, Joseph Cintorino used the fistic name of Mickey Devine. His younger brother Sam used the name Sammy Devine.

Mickey Devine, undoubtedly Batavia’s greatest professional fighter, used a circuitous route to gain fame in the ring. He fought in two venues, amateur and bootleg. Combined, he had a 70 win, 6 loss record.

There existed at the time a hybrid group called Bootleg Fights, a sort of semi-pro organization with its own officials and rules, outside the normal amateur sphere. Some pros fought as amateurs using different names and amateurs fought as semi-pros looking to pick up a few Depression dollars. They fought in “Smokers” at various places, so called because the smoke was so thick. One such place was the Eastman Kodak in Rochester where the legendary George Eastman would attend. When fighters weren’t paid in cash, sometimes, trophies and watches were awarded which the fighter sold to gain some valuable dollars.

Mickey Devine was a sensation on the circuit and decided to apply for a professional license. As a pro, he compiled a brilliant 18 win – 2 loss – 1 draw record. His one loss to Jeff Furrone was later reversed. In their 2nd contest, Devine won easily, flooring his rival twice. For his 22nd fight, Mickey was matched with his mentor, Tony Sciolino, at Memorial Auditorium in Buffalo in what was billed as “For the lightweight championship of Batavia.” Devine was too slick and too fast for the aging Sciolino and pounded out an easy eight-round decision.

With lucrative bouts offered him, Devine decided to retire and get married. He took the $1200.00 from the Sciolino fight, his largest purse ever, paid off his parents’ mortgage and purchased a house for himself. He served as a referee at amateur contests and trained a protégé, Nick Tundo. Remarkably, he was unmarked despite all those bouts, a tribute to his defensive skills.

Joe Church

Back at the Batavia Boxing Club, all types of would-be pugilists would be in training under the watchful eye of DiCarlo and Gaeta. Some of the notables were Jimmy Amatrano, Cheech Trinchera, Chet Mruzek, Vinnie Lewandowski, Ken Pixley, Joe Syracuse, Tony Zito, Eddie Urban, Tony Stone, Nate DiSanto, Frankie Flynn, Mike Saquella, Kid Fillete, Sammy Devine, Norm Columbo, Paul Columbo, Scrapiron Marshall, Gordon Hyde and Dick Warboys.

But the two gems of the stable were Joe Church and Lou Cecere, both inducted into the Rochester Boxing Assn. Hall of Fame, along with Mickey Devine and Tony Zito. Church from Swan Street on Batavia’s South Side, was a 1929 graduate of Batavia High School. He won his first title, the Niagara District Amateur Championship and his second followed quickly as he swept through the Buffalo Championships and continued his Western New York Amateur dominance, winning the Courier Express title, and repeated his Niagara AAU title in a heavier 126-lb. division.

These wins garnered Church a chance to compete in the prestigious National Amateur Championship in Cleveland. The only problem was money and transportation. Determined to fulfill his dream of winning a national title and competing in the Olympics in 1936, Church and a friend hitchhiked to Cleveland and slept at the bus station the first night.

A 100-1 shot, Church swept through the prelims and then shocked the boxing world by winning the featherweight title. Floored in the first round, Church won the next four rounds handily to win a unanimous decision.

He was awarded a champion’s reception when he returned by train to Batavia, being greeted by dignitaries, including the mayor, who presented him with a Key to the City, as the City Band played proudly. The crowd gave him a tremendous ovation, appreciative of Batavia’s only national boxing champion, ever.

The festivities didn’t end there. A parade brought him from Swan Street to the Community Center on Liberty Street. 250 admirers showered him with gifts and standing ovations. He was introduced by Father Kirby and praised by John DiCarlo, Tony Gaeta and John Gioia. He received another standing ovation when it was announced he would be an alternate on the 1936 Olympic team, the event that featured Jesse Owens.

Church later won a boxing scholarship to the University of Miami and served as a boxing instructor in the Army.

Lou Cecere, one of 11 children, was a boxing fan as a teenager and with his friend, Tony Zito, began appearing at the Jackson Street gym. His speed and footwork caught the eye of John DiCarlo and Cecere’s ability to outbox the veterans put him on several cards in Western New York. He once won 40 consecutive fights, including the prestigious Syracuse Herald American Golden Gloves.

Cecere had a 92-7 record when he headlined the Open Air Amateur card at MacArthur Stadium in the summer of 1940. It was his 100th fight and he didn’t disappoint the thousand fans who showed up at the ballpark. They paid a dollar for ringside and 44 cents general admission to see Cecere put on a dazzling exhibition, winning all five rounds over veteran Buffalonian Earl Wilson.

Lou Cecere

On the same card, youngsters with big padded gloves regaled the throng. Sammy Devine won a four-round decision and Cecere’s stablemate, Vin Tresco, lost a five-rounder to Ed Stokes. Tony Stone of Oakfield and Frank Aquino of Batavia were winners by decision. But, Batavians Kid Fillette, Jimmy DiFalco and Angelo Pettinella were all knockout losers and Ed Urban lost on a decision.

Despite the success of the evening, World War II was approaching and boxing lost its luster for a while. Cecere was drafted into the Army, losing his chance to turn pro. However, he did serve with Billy Conn’s touring group in Europe giving exhibitions in several areas. After four years of distinguished service in World War II, he never fought again.

Tony Zito’s main ambition was to win the Buffalo Golden Gloves. He lost his first effort, then enlisted in the Army. There he became a Service champion compiling an impressive 38-2 record before being shipped overseas where he participated in many infantry battles. During his march through Belgium, a V-2 German rocket destroyed a hospital. Zito worked several days, under heavy fire, getting patients to safety and for this supreme effort, he was awarded the Bronze Star for bravery. He later was wounded twice by shrapnel and received the Purple Heart.

Upon discharge, Zito wanted to return to the ring, but was advised by doctors not to because shrapnel was still in his body. He went ahead any way and in 1946 won two bouts before running into Calvin Leigh of Rochester, later, a successful pro, and lost in the semi-finals. It was his last fight.

Zito, a longtime employee of Batavia Downs, prided himself on his boxing knowledge and became a noted boxing historian.

Boxing in Batavia received a faint spark of life in 1947 with the emergence of Batavia High School athlete Dick Brenkus, who excelled in basketball and football. He tried boxing under the direction of trainer Jack Shevlet and won his first six bouts, capturing the Buffalo Courier Express Novice Middleweight title.

In the final exhibition held in Batavia in April 1947, Brenkus headlined a six-bout card at St. Anthony’s Community Center. The old ring was located and 800 fans packed the auditorium. Anybody who was anybody was there and they were delighted as Jimmy Fasano, a nephew of Tony Sciolino, won his debut in a three-round bout. Bob Smith won a five-round decision. But it was not to be for Batavia boxers that evening.

Sam Nicometo was starched in the first round and Brenkus, with famed coach Danny Van Detta in his corner, was simply overmatched. He was pitted against Buffalo Open Division champion Mickey McGuire who had 60 fights. Brenkus held his own the first round, but McGuire kayoed him in round two with a flurry of combinations dropping him over the lower strand of the ropes as referee Tony Gaeta tolled the mournful 10 count.

The flaming embers for boxing in Batavia died out that evening. With other activities such as cars, television and drive-ins, there wasn’t a farm system to develop young talent. It was over, all over. But what a glorious ride!

Today, boxing is being challenged and probably surpassed by MMA and other kickboxing battles. Aided by reality television and today’s penchant for violence, these affairs are immensely popular and highly visible.

But to the boxing purists of yesterday, they will never match the Sweet Science of the Golden Age of Boxing.

And to that I say “Amen.”

Mickey Devine trains protoge Nick Tundo, circa 1941.

Top photo: The Batavia Boxing Team in 1937. Dick Warboys, Vince Lavandowski, Joe Syracuse, Natalie DiSanto, Nick Tundo, Lou Cecere, Ed Urban, Tony Gaeta, Gorden Hyde and Mike Saquella. Photo by Tony "Butch" Zito.

One of Batavia's most accomplished boxers from the 1930s passed away last week -- Salvatore V. “Sam” Cintorino, who won five Golden Glove titles as a lightweight fighting as Sammy Devine.

Cintorino was the brother of Joseph Cintorino, who fought as Mickey Devine when he turned professional and became one of the biggest names in boxing to come out of Batavia.

The brothers were part of a vibrant boxing scene in Batavia in the 1930s when some 40 to 60 young men trained locally and fought all over WNY, even nationwide.

The 96-year-old Sam Cintorino was born Nov. 8, 1916 in Brooklyn to parents who immigrated from Italy. Soon after, the family moved to Batavia.

As Sammy Devine, Cintorino is a member of the Rochester Boxing Hall of Fame.

For his full obituary, click here.

Some say, "I could have been a contender." Tim Edgerton got his chance at a title bout and won.

The 52-year-old Oakfield resident grew up in Batavia and fell in love with boxing when he was 15.

It all started on an annual family trip to New Jersey to see his mother's brother. Edgerton's Uncle Norman had been a boxer as a youth. When young Timothy expressed an interest in boxing, they talked a bit and then Uncle Norman took the lad into the basement and dug out his old boxing shorts from a box. Timothy tried them on and they fit. Edgerton said he was hooked.

In the late 1970s, there was only one competitive boxer living in Batavia, and that was Tim Edgerton.

At the time, there were no boxing gyms in Genesee County. The last public boxing ring in Batavia was probably dismantled in the 1950s or early 1960s, or even earlier.

There were still boxers in Batavia, but all were retired from the sport. Most of them fought during Batavia's Golden Era of boxing, the 1930s. One of those former prizefighters was Ken Pixley, who worked with Edgerton's father at Chapin Manufacturing.

According to the book "The Batavia Boxing Club" by Anthony "Butch" Zito, available through the County History Department, Pixley started his boxing career in 1934 as a bantam weight. In his own training, Pixley worked on conditioning and speed, moving in and out, picking his spots. He punched, hooked and jabbed.

Some of the records of Pixley's career are lost, but he never won a title and lost a couple of fights -- and won a few, most notably a 1938 bout in Kibbe Park against lanky Archie Smith of Hamilton, Ontario, in front of 400 local fight fans. Zito writes, "Ken forced the issue from the opening bell and never relented in his attack of left hooks and rights to the head. It was an impressive victory."

Pixley lost his next bout in Rochester later that year. Then he retired from boxing. He was a Mason and served in the Army Air Force during World War ll.

After Pixley learned of Edgerton's interest in boxing, he started working with him, training him.

Edgerton's dad built a boxing ring in the back yard of their home on Sunset Terrace. Pixley lived in a nearby trailer park. He'd help Tim with his training at home.

Once a month Tim's dad drove him to Buffalo to train with John Sudac at Singer's Gym.

It was on the second floor of an old building in a rough part of town. Edgerton said it was like something out of the first "Rocky" film (at the time, a hit movie). When Edgerton's father expressed concern, Sudac lifted his shirt and flashed a revolver. "That takes care of any of the riffraff," he said.

Edgerton had a hard time getting his fellow Batavia High Sschool students interested in boxing (he would eventually graduate from Byron-Bergen and is a member of the Byron-Bergen Hall of Fame). Friends and classmates would agree to spar, but just once. Once was all it took and they'd lose their interest in boxing.

There was an English teacher at BHS at the time, Dave Roberts, who apparently had done a little boxing, and he agreed to spar with Edgerton one summer day between Tim's 9th- and 10th-grade year.

Well, word got around the neighborhood that a teacher was going to fight Edgerton.

"Next thing you know my back yard is filled with 30 or 40 kids and my English teacher thought he was coming up just to spar with me and next thing you know it's turned into a match and it was pretty involved," Edgerton said. "My dad, he didn't want nothing to do with it. He just stayed in the garage and said, 'just let me know when it's over.' "

The late 1970s, those were the days. The top fighters of the day are legends now. Muhammad Ali, George Foreman, Roberto Duran, Ken Norton and Joe Frazier.

In Edgerton's mind, the greatest of them all was Smokin' Joe.

Frazier owned a gym in Philadelphia and one day after school it popped into Edgerton's mind that Philly wasn't all that far away and maybe some day he could train in Frazier's gym.

"So I called up Joe Frazier's gym, and guess who answered the phone?" Edgerton said.  "Joe Frazier, Smokin' Joe. He was my idol. I tried to pattern myself after him. I took a lot of hits coming in, but just like Joe -- you get in there and as long as you could wreak some havoc, that was worth it."

It was a nice little conversation, Edgerton said. He explained his situation -- not much in Batavia for boxers and he was thinking of trying to come down to Philadelphia to train for a day.

"He said, you know what, you come down here, you make the effort to come down here, and I'll personally spend some time with you," Edgerton said. "It was great, just talking to him was fantastic."

Alas, Edgerton never made the trip.

"I was pushing it once a month with my dad to go to Buffalo," Edgerton said. "He wasn't going to Philly."

It's a shame Batavia's once thriving boxing scene died out after the 1950s.

At one time in the 1930s, there were at least 40 competitive boxers living in Batavia. Some of the top local fighters of the day included Tony DiCarlo, Norfe Colombo, Joe Goodsell, Nick Tundo, Dick Warboys, Lou Cecere, Butch Zito, Joe Church, Frankie Flynn, Anthony Sciolino, Angelo Yannuzzi and Mickey Devine.

Devine's given name was Joe Cintorino. He was one of a handful of local boxers to turn pro and perhaps the most successful.

The Brooklyn-born Cintorino came to Batavia with his family while still a child. He was coaxed into the gym by DiCarlo. He fought for the first time in 1930 at the American Legion Hall in Buffalo. The decision went to Rochester's Joe Ryan, which sent the crowd into a frenzy of boos -- they thought Cintorino was the better man.

Batavia's Joe Church. Church was a member of the 1936 Olympic Team in Berlin, but was sent home for disciplinary reasons.

A power puncher who could land devastating body blows, Cintorino was known as Batavia's Blonde Terror. By 1932, he was considered one of the top four amateur bantam weights in the nation and was invited to the Olympic Trials in San Francisco. He missed a shot at a state NAA title when a referee, just before the title fight, discovered he was running a high fever and canceled the fight.

Cintorino had a history of lost decisions that were unpopular with fight fans in the crowd. The crowds booed when he lost the final Olympic Trials match to Joseph Lang of San Francisco.

He fought under the name Mickey Devine for the first time later that year in a bout in Rochester representing a group that wasn't sanctioned by the New York Boxing Commission. He beat a fighter from Saratoga Springs that night.

On Nov. 8, 1932, Cintorino beat Canada's reigning bantam weight champion, Jackie Cullura. Zito said it was the biggest bout of his amateur career.

The Blonde Terror turned pro as Mickey Devine in late 1933 and started fighting at 126 pounds.

Devine won his first seven fights and was 7-2-1 when "Ring" magazine named him one of the top featherweight prospects in the nation.

The closest Devine got to a title match was in 1936. The reigning light heavyweight champ, Lou Ambers, kept dodging the fight however, not wanting to take on a talented southpaw.

In 1940, Devine retired with a record of 25-9-2. He died in 1999 and is buried at St. Joseph's Cemetery in Batavia.

It's unclear what happened to boxing in Batavia after 1940. We hear there was boxing locally for at least another decade. Angelo Prospero, who graduated from Batavia HS in 1947 and now lives in South Carolina, is a boxing historian and has written about local boxing. We tried to arrange an interview with Prospero but breaking news on Tuesday and Wednesday got in the way. Hopefully, we can catch up with him some time and find out more.

Whatever happened, it's clear that by the time Edgerton entered the scene, there was no boxing scene in Batavia. He was on his own.

He had Pixley to help. He had Sudac to help. He also bought and watched boxing films -- Joe Louis, Frazier, Ali, Tony Zale and Sugar Ray Robinson.

"I'd watch those fights over and over studying their moves and techniques," Edgerton said.

He had a speed bag and heavy bag in his garage and he would shadow box, trying to imitate what he'd just seen on film.

Uncle Norman had been a pretty good boxer in his local area, but was defeated in his three tries at a Golden Gloves title.

"Tim, I don't know what happened, but the lights went out three times," Uncle Norman told Edgerton. "They carried me out of the ring. Those guys were good, a different caliber."

Edgerton always thought maybe he could win the Golden Gloves title his uncle never did.

First, of course, there had to be a first fight.

Tim lost.

But learned a valuable lesson, one that would eventually make all the difference in the world.

"I was beating the guy pretty good, but I ran out of gas," Edgerton said. "When I went into the fight, I didn't know where I stood as far as conditioning. The second time I dropped my mouth piece, the ref stopped the fight. After that fight, I knew how to train, how to gauge myself, how to pace myself."

By the summer of 1976, Edgerton could drive himself to Rochester to train at Ossie Sussman's gym.He signed up for a 10-week course.

He had been fighting and winning. He was ready for the Golden Gloves championships in Buffalo.

He would have Pixley and Sussman in his corner.

The winter of 1977 was particularly harsh. There was, of course, a blizzard. Twice, the bouts in Buffalo were cancelled.

Still, the Buffallo Golden Gloves organizers needed champions to move onto the next round and time was running short.

"They said they drew names out of a hat to pick the final contestants for each weight class," Edgerton said. "Those people went on to represent Buffalo. When I was looking at the roster, I thought, 'Gee, nobody from outside of Buffalo got selected. It must just be a coincidence.' "

After that, Edgerton thought he needed to buckle down and concentrate on school, so he stepped away from boxing.

Put on the shelf with his gloves was the idea of avenging his uncle's three Golden Gloves defeats.

Edgerton graduated from Byron-Bergen and went to GCC for a year. He then transferred to Sam Houston University in Texas, where he majored in criminal justice.

In Texas, friends encouraged him to box again. He started working out and training and when it came time for the Golden Gloves championship in Houston, he decided to enter.

He drove to Houston with his future wife, Lettie, a Texas girl. He was unaffiliated and only had Lettie to work his corner.

While he was signing up, he noticed a big man in suit watching him. The man motioned him over, so Edgerton walked over. The man asked him if he had anybody to work his corner.  Edgerton said he didn't.

The man said he represented the team from Cut and Shoot, Texas. They were a few boxers short for the team and if Edgerton joined their team, they could provide people to work his corner. That way, Ederton gets help and if he scores any points, the Cut and Shoot team gets the points.

That sounded like a fair deal, Edgerton said.

"Of course they had no idea what my skill level was," Ederton said. "They just went into it blind, kind of like I went with them blind."

Then this man from Cut and Shoot, Texas had another proposal for the 174-pound fighter.

"The guy says, 'what would you think about fighting as a heavyweight?' and I said, 'Are you kidding me?' "

Edgerton would be giving up at least 25 pounds to every fighter he faced.

"You'll be giving up a lot of weight, but you're quick, you're fast," the man said. "Jab and move, stay away from them, try to score some points. Your chances are better as a heavyweight. I know some of the kids in the lightweight division. They're really good. I don't know you, but that's the best I can offer."

Edgerton and Lettie talked it over. The man, whom Edgerton still didn't know from a fence post, seemed to know what he was talking about.

After winning the preliminary bouts, Edgerton was facing a man 45 pounds heavier in the finals.

"He had had to go 220 maybe 225 pounds," Edgerton said. "He was bigger. He was taller. and I won. I don't know how. Maybe out of fear. But I was able to take it to him pretty good.

"It did work out where he was bigger and stronger, but he was slower," Edgerton added. "I could out maneuver his punches, you know, duck. A couple of times he swung and I could just literally feel the air rush over head. If he ever hit me, I would have been gone. They would have been carrying me out."

The fight went all three rounds, and for a moment, Edgerton thought he could score a knockout.

"In third round, I almost has had enough to put him down," Edgerton said. "He was stumbling back into the ropes, but I didn't have enough.

"In my corner, they yelled out, 'stick and move, stick and move, you got the fight won, just stick and move,' so that's what I did," Edgerton added. "I got on the bicycle, started sticking, moving, moving, sticking. He couldn't catch me. He was tired. I was in better shape, thank God, and I ended up winning."

With the victory, Edgerton won his Golden Gloves title, and as a heavyweight. Those points also put the team from Cut and Shoot, Texas, over the top for a team championship.

The man who recruited Edgerton turned out to be Roy Harris, once a top professional who made it as far as 12 rounds with the heavyweight champion of his day, Floyd Patterson.

That was Edgerton's last fight. He finished with a career record of 19-6.

Five of those loses were TKOs. Edgerton said he was a nose bleeder and if he got caught on his sniffer, the ref would usually end up calling the fight.

"I thought, thank God I didn't get hurt in all those fights I had and I said, 'that's enough,' " Edgerton said. "The one thing, though, I set the scale straight for my uncle and I proved to myself I could do it."

Edgerton married Lettie and they moved away from Texas. He wanted to return home, but couldn't land a crime-fighting job in Genesee County. He went to work for the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, living in Detroit for a while.

Eventually, the job brought him back to Batavia

In 1993, he developed Operation Child Intercept, which has been adopted nationwide, to combat the illicit transportation of missing and abducted children across the international borders into the U.S.

He currently manages the Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s Criminal Alien Program out of ICE's office in Batavia.

The Edgertons have two daughters, Casey, 20, and Emily, 16. He serves on the Oakfield-Alabama School District Board of Directors.

There was no boxing gym in Batavia for Edgeton when he was growing up, but today's youngsters can't say the same thing.

A few weeks ago, Hands Up MMA opened on Harvester Avenue.

While mixed martial arts is kind of a specialty there, owner Joseph Bailey is a big boxing fan and would love to see more boxers make use of his ring. It's probably the first one in Batavia opened to the public in 50, or maybe 70, years.

Edgerton said he would like to see more young people drawn to the art and science of boxing.

"As long as you do boxing safely and take the right precautions, it's one of the greatest sports and one of the oldest sports for a person to be involved with on an individual level," he said.

The individual nature of boxing is what attracted him to boxing over team sports, he said.

"I love team sports, but that's what intrigued me about boxing," he said. "It's all up to you. You train hard. You climb in that ring, and man, it's just you and that other guy. That other guy is out to try to do harm to you and you're out to try to inflict some punishment on him to win. It changes the whole complexion of everything."

UPDATE: Added photo of Joe Church, sent to us courtesy by Bob Caico, of the Buffalo Veteran Boxing Association.

Wanna box?

Now you can.

For the first time in a decade or more, Batavia has a gym with a boxing ring.

Hands Up MMA, like the name says, isn't just about the sweet science, but owner Joseph Bailey (top photo) said with his lifelong love of boxing and Batavia's once rich tradition of boxing, it was important to him to bring boxing back to the city.

Bailey is a fan of boxing, but his passion is for mixed martial arts and he believes that is a sport that will only grow locally and throughout the state.

"Some people view that sport as gruesome and violent -- those who don't have a full understanding of the sport, but it's just as competitive as rugby would be, or hockey or lacrosse," Bailey said.

The gym, which officially opened today in the Harvester Center, provides a well-rounded workout with bags, ropes, tires, climbing walls, for anybody interested in combat sports.

Several young fighters found the gym while Bailey was still building it and started working out with him. At least four of them are planning to compete for the first time in a MMA tournament in Rochester on Sept. 29.

"We offer training in kickboxing, jiu jitsu, wrestling, boxing and we try to incorporate it all together," Bailey said. "We'll also offer self-defense training and a course on knife and gun disarming that will be taught by a Green Beret."

The gym is already drawing a diverse group of people.

William Sutton is a Purple Heart-decorated Army veteran who honed his fighting skills by training to become an Army instructor in hand-to-hand combat.

During a tour of duty in Korea, he found boxing and MMA were big with the troops there. He was 13-0 as a boxer and 2-0 in MMA.

"Growing up in Batavia, it wasn't like it is nowadays," Sutton said. "Growing up in Batavia, a lot of times we would fight before school. We would fight after school. Fighting was a big part of Batavia. It's a tough town to grow up in. I've been fighting my whole life and I just continued that in the Army."

Sutton was wounded in Afghanistan and is now retired from military service. The injury and his commitment to the Veterans Administration prevents him from ever again fighting competitively and he's limited by military obligations in what he can teach, but working out in a gym of fighters appeals to him.

"Everybody who comes to an MMA gym seems to be just more humble," Sutton said. "People that go to a regular gym, you know, walk around trying to impress each other. At an MMA gym, all that BS is just put aside because we can put on the gloves and go in the ring. Put your hands up. Talking and stuff don't go here."

All his experience and success, though, puts Sutton in a position to help young fighters and he said he's always happy to train with them and answer questions and offer pointers to those willing to listen.

Bailey really hopes Hands Up becomes a vehicle for promoting boxing in Batavia. He plans to hold regular tournaments involving gym members that will be open to the public.

"Boxing used to have a big history in the City of Batavia," Bailey said. "The community is unaware of that and what I would like to do is get members of the gym to spare and promote boxing and hopefully get some viewers in to watch tournaments."

As we spoke, an older gentleman walked past the front windows and you could see his eyes light up as he looked inside.

There was little doubt, he was a boxer.

The first thing Robert Janes (top inset photo) did when he walked in was hit the speed bag. Later, he would say it was the first time in 13 years he punched a speed bag.

A native of Palm Springs, Calif., Janes was involved in Golden Gloves in the early 1970s.

Now living in Stafford and working pouring concrete, Janes was clearly thrilled to be in a boxing gym again and he said he can't wait to start working out there.

"I just want to stay healthy," Janes said. "I want to keep my head right. Any time I was ever in the gym, any time I was ever involved in any kind of organized boxing, I was good. Once I walked way from that, I was in big trouble. Now I'm 60 years old. I want to come back to it. I want to bring my granddaughter and my grandson into it."

NOTE: I want to do a story about the boxing in Batavia in the 20th Century. I have a copy of a book by Butch Zito, but I would like to find old pictures and other memorabilia. Few, if any, of the former boxers are still alive, but perhaps sons and daughters have memories about their boxing relatives to share. Write to me at howard@thebatavian.com.

William Sutton

Tim McCullough, from Batavia, and Sutton.

Also pictured in the slide show training is Josh McCarthy of Batavia (wearing yellow).