After just about every boxing title match, pundits, aficionados, historians and the like will inevitably conjure up the great ones – those masters of the sweet science who were artists as well as pugilists. Quite often Georgia native Ezzard Mack Charles makes the cut. Among his many claims to fame is beating the great Joe Louis 65 years ago this week.
Charles was born in Lawrenceville, then relocated in Cincinnati at age 9 to to live with his grandmother. In 2002, Ring Magazine ranked him as the greatest light heavyweight, Charles’ division before he bulked up to heavyweight. A gifted boxer, Charles fought at middleweight, light heavyweight and heavyweight.
He claimed boxing’s most recognized title in 1949 and successfully defended it eight times, once against the immortal Joe Louis.
Fans recall that Charles was a fighting machine. These days where boxers take months off between bouts, Charles fought 122 as a pro, one or more a month in his prime years and beyond.
Besides Louis he beat most of the best of his time including Archie Moore and Jersey Joe Walcott. He even lasted 12 rounds with Rocky Marciano – a feat no other boxer could boast. And that was during Marciano’s reign of consecutive knock outs.
In the end, Charles died in a veterans’ hospital in Chicago, as poor as when he was born in a shack in the Rocky Knob section of Lawrenceville.
Before that sad circle came full, though, Ezzard Charles fought his way to glory. He was the heavyweight champion of the world, yet his earnings, at least in terms of today’s lottery-sized purses, were little more than chump change.
He was never proclaimed a hero in his hometown until years after he died. And like his friend and contemporary, Jackie Robinson, he only went back to his native Georgia once.
The man who was the model for Muhammad Ali fought his last bouts in places like Boise, Oklahoma City and Juarez, Mexico. Then, he hit the pro wrestling circuit; he was always the good guy. However, the earnings weren’t enough to keep him from losing his home.
He played the cello; he played stickball in the streets. No one has recorded a memory of seeing him drink, smoke or swear.
He was the kind of champ people say they want —- humble, community-oriented, religious, a family man. Yet, he was forgotten not long after the last time he unlaced his gloves.
None of which alters the fact that the man could box.
