2/11

The Magic and Mystique of Willie Pep

229 wins against 11 losses. Throw one draw in there. 229-11-1. That’s the career record of the boxer with the most wins in the history of the sport, Willie Pep. The Hartford Tornado. The Will O’ The Wisp. A boxer that lands on any good Top 10 all-time list. The greatest fighter you never heard of. Pep was the featherweight champion of boxing six years running, 1942-1948, before regaining his lost title on February 11, 1949. 2/11. First featherweight champ to EVER regain a lost title, but we’ll get there. He would hold the title another 19 months after winning it back, until losing it once and for all to Sandy Saddler in September, 1950. But look at the record again. You can find “211” in there. I’ve been developing a film project with James Madio about the late, great Pep for almost 6 years now, and that special date, the number 211, has appeared mysteriously throughout the development of the project, a reminder of the magic and mystique surrounding a small fighter of mythic proportions.

Willie Pep, born Guglielmo Papaleo on September 19, 1922, the son of Italian immigrants, grew up during the Depression and was left to fend for himself on the rough and tumble streets of Hartford, Connecticut. He learned how to fight defending his shoeshine corner. He couldn’t afford to lose a day of work to another kid taking his spot — the welfare of his family depended on it. When he found he could fight in the ring for watches, then sell those same watches for more money than he could ever make shining shoes, he decided, with the encouragement of his father, to fight at every opportunity, sometimes twice in one night. He was small but lightning quick. It was said you couldn’t hit him in the ass with a cup of rice. Blazing speed. So as an early teen he put food on the family table with his fists. They were tough times, but Pep was a tough kid.

Pep had a prolific amateur career, going 59-3 over two-plus years, winning the Connecticut State Championships at the flyweight and bantamweight levels before turning pro in July 1940, at the age of 18. Legend has it that one of Pep’s amateur losses was to a much bigger fighter, a young man who outweighed Pep by 25 pounds. The bigger fighter was a kid by the name of Ray Roberts. He would go on to become one of the great fighters of all-time, Sugar Ray Robinson. Robinson gained a wealth of respect for Pep from that encounter, and the men would remain close friends throughout their careers.

Pep fought as a featherweight when he turned pro. At 5'5”, 126 pounds, he was not an intimidating presence. Many of the photos I found of Pep early in his career (via the Hartford Courant archives) show a young, humble man, boyish looking and clean cut, shaking the hand of an opposing fighter or the fighter’s manager. Often times, the opponent would be smiling while Pep was stoic, unable to even make eye contact. From the outside observer he looked scared, overshadowed in every photo by the better dressed and more camera friendly opponent. The accompanying articles preceding the fight often stated how THIS opponent was the real test for Pep, and how Pep could find himself on the losing end of a bout for the first time — it never happened. Again and again, the next day’s paper would run the same story — another easy win for the kid from Hartford, untouchable in every sense of the word, outclassing and outboxing each of his overconfident opponents.

Pep won his first 62 pro fights, a record number to start a career (Julio Cesar Chavez would break the record, winning his first 87 fights). Pep was unassuming but equally unstoppable. His ascent was so rapid, his victories so decisive and convincing, rarely losing even a round of boxing, let alone a fight, that when he fought at Madison Square Garden for the 3rd time in his early career, in September of ‘42 on the undercard of a Fritzie Zivic-Red Cochrane fight, his rising star reaching even greater heights when he knocked down featherweight contender Frank Franconeri three times in the opening round, the last time for good, the Garden and the powers that be in boxing at that time could no longer deny him a shot at the title, which he received only 2 months later, in November of ‘42. Somehow Pep’s savvy manager, Lou Viscusi, fudged Pep’s work papers to falsely state that Pep was 21 (he was actually 20), the required age to fight a scheduled 15 round bout in New York State. Pep was 54-0 going into his title match against the popular world champ Chalky Wright, a former chauffeur to movie stars like Mae West. Wright was a boxing darling and respected champion, but Pep would get past Wright, winning by decision in 15 rounds of skilled and crafty boxing, always moving, never there for Wright to hit, and becoming world champion, the youngest world champion in 40 years. Pep’s rise was unprecedented, his status as a phenom and boxing sensation now official.

I came to the Pep project through my friend, actor/producer James Madio. After moving to Los Angeles in January 2008, Madio invited me to his place in Hollywood Hills where he lived at the time. It was early February. If I had to guess, I would say it was February 11th, and though I may be wrong, we were certainly in the proximity of the date, in the range of its metaphysical pull. Jim had a picture on the bulletin board above his desk, an old black and white picture of Willie Pep. I asked why it was hanging and he told me how his father always believed Pep’s story could make a good movie and be the perfect role for Jim. Jim is the same size as Pep — height, weight, build. Both are Italian-American. Both are from the northeast, Pep from the scrappy streets of Hartford, Jim from the storied streets of the Bronx. Lots in common. When Jim told me a little more about Pep, I was intrigued. Something compelled me to offer a hand in developing the project. Something compelled Jim to accept my offer. Something compelled the both of us to Google the Papaleo family in Connecticut, and something compelled me to dial every number I found, until I landed on Pep’s son, William Papaleo Jr. (Pep Jr.), or Billy, as he’s known. Soon after we received the blessing of the Papaleo family to proceed with the telling of Pep’s story as a feature film.

Me and Jim spent the rest of my time in Los Angeles, roughly 7 months, pitching the Pep project to all who would take a meeting with us. The response to our idea was always positive. The boxing genre is a viable one and companies know it, and Pep’s story is a compelling tale, but due to our lack of a defined storyline at the time, and having no script or attachments, we faced an uphill battle. We decided we needed a script. With no development funds to speak of, we decided further that I would be the person to write the script. I started the work back in New York in fall of 2008, and I took a trip to Hartford for research purposes (ultimately I made several trips). The first person I connected with was Billy. We met at his place in Wethersfield, Connecticut, a few miles south of Hartford, in a housing complex off Interstate 91, at his apartment, to be precise. The apartment number? 211. I couldn’t believe it. I explained to Billy that his father won back his title on the same date in 1949, the defining moment of his storied career. Billy had no idea. He chalked it up to coincidence. I saw it as a sign, a sign that I was on the right path, a sign from Pep to keep going, to make the movie, to tell his story, to solidify the legacy of an all-time great fighter that is mostly forgotten.

Back to Pep’s meteoric rise. He beat Chalky Wright for the title to up his record to 55-0. After winning fight number 62 sometime in early ‘43, Pep had ideas of moving up to lightweight. Bigger opponents, bigger fights, bigger purses. He took on Sammy Angott, former lightweight champ, in February of ‘43, again fighting at the Garden. Pep was a huge draw for the Garden and beloved by the New York fight crowd, an Italian American kid with a flare in the ring. Celebrities like Sinatra and Gleason and DiMaggio would come out to see him fight — a Pep fight was a real happening. Pep came out slow in this one versus Angott, and though he fought well in the latter part of the bout it wasn’t enough. He lost the ten round decision, the first loss of his career.

After the Angott loss, Pep would go on to win his next 73 fights — another record streak. Along the way, he was the ONLY major athlete to be enlisted in World War II twice — first by the Navy, and then by the Army. Though he remained stateside during his service, he served with pride and was honorably discharged from the Army in late ‘45. With a need to earn — Pep was now married with 2 children — Pep would fight 18 times in 1946. Yes, 18 times. One of those fights was in Minneapolis, in July of ‘46, against a top contender, Jackie Graves. Pep, considered by all to be one of the greatest defensive fighters ever, told a reporter before the fight that he would win the 3rd round without throwing a punch. Legend has it that Pep indeed won the round with a series of feints and dodges that made Graves look so bad the judges awarded the round to Pep even though he kept his word and did not throw a single punch. Whether the story is myth or truth, the fact that it is even considered to be true says much about Pep’s special skill and aura in the ring. Boxing people I meet like to dismiss his 18 fights in one year by saying “it was different times,” and it was, but fighters still punched and still got punched, and it still hurt their face and their hands and it took a toll. It’s no small feat, even for a featherweight, who presumably is not hit as hard, or in Pep’s case, as often, and this feat cannot be diminished. Most top fighters today fight twice, maybe three times in a year. Pep laced ‘em up 18 times in ‘46, and won ‘em all. And Pep wasn’t a contender trying to climb the ranks — he was the champ, at the top of the sport. Sure he needed the money, but he loved to fight, and I believe that landed him in between the ropes as much as anything. In the mid to late 40's, boxing was Joe Louis, Ray Robinson, and Willie Pep. He was in that kind of company, and then the calendar flipped to 1947, and along with it came a fateful event in Pep’s career.

January 2, 1947. 1/2/47. There’s a 2 and an 11 in there somewhere (add the 4 and the 7!). Pep was traveling Miami to Hartford, taking a break in training, coming home to see his family. He was on a chartered flight which ran into stormy weather in New Jersey and the plane went down. 3 dead, 21 injured, many of the injuries serious. Pep, lucky to survive, was one of the injured. He suffered a broken leg and two cracked vertebrae. It was thought he wouldn’t fight again, and if he did, he wouldn’t be the same. The insurance company was set to pay Pep $500,000 (roughly $5m in 2014 money) if he never fought again. He was advised by those close to him to take the money and give up boxing. He couldn’t do it. After a slow and painful recovery, Pep made a victorious return to the ring 5 months later, in June of ‘47. His record was 108-1-1 when he returned to the ring that night vs. Victor Flores of Mexico City, a decent opponent, but not a fighter even close to Pep’s caliber. Pep’s struggles in that first fight back led many to believe his best days were indeed behind him, that the injuries sustained in the crash had slowed him, making his greatest asset, his speed, less formidable, and therefore making Pep vulnerable, and primed for defeat in a featherweight division filled with hungry contenders.

Pep plugged along against a series of opponents carefully selected by Lou Viscusi and Pep’s trainer, Bill Gore. He defended his title only as necessary, beating Jock Leslie by KO in August, 1947, and Humberto Sierra in February of ‘48 at the Orange Bowl in Miami, in front of 10,000 fans amidst heavy rains. The great Jack Dempsey was the referee for that fight. As the year progressed, there was one featherweight fighter that could really challenge Pep, and Pep’s camp knew it, avoided him like the plague, as did most of the division. That one fighter was a young kid from Harlem, a hard-hitting knockout artist by the name of Sandy Saddler. And if Pep didn’t know it himself — he was generally oblivious to the accomplishments of his opponent, fighting whoever his camp put before him — he was about to find out.

On October 29, 1948, in Pep’s 3rd fight of that month alone (he fought another 17 times in 1948), he was set to defend his title against Saddler. Pep came into the fight winning a record 73 contests in a row, sporting an amazing record of 135-1-1. Saddler was 85-6, with a high percentage of wins by knockout, rare for a featherweight, but Saddler was a big puncher and a fierce opponent, always moving forward. His style vexed Pep, and after being knocked down twice in the 3rd round, the first knockdowns of Pep’s career, Pep was knocked out for good in the 4th round, suffering the first knockout loss of his career, and his first loss since the Angott fight more than 5 years earlier. Pep, the heavy favorite in the fight (talk of Pep taking a dive ran wild after the fight, but such talk was commonplace in those days) lost his title, the title he held for 6 years, and many wrote him off after the loss, saying his best days were behind him, the post-crash Pep a shadow of his former self, older than his 26 years suggested, with over 200 fights between amateurs and the pros. A champ no more, Pep quickly became yesterday’s darling. In the court of public opinion and in the minds of the keenest boxing observer, Pep was done.

Jim Madio married his longtime girlfriend in May, 2012. Their first date was about 3 years earlier in 2009, on 2/11 — 2/11! I’m born on 2/10/74. Can’t get closer than that to 2/11. Jim was born on 11/22. You can find a 2/11 in there, too. Many times I hang up the phone after a Pep call and see the call duration was 2:11, or the time of the call starts or ends at 2:11 in the afternoon. Emails at 2:11 p.m. or a.m. The last draft of the script, completed in 2013 and the draft that has opened many doors for us in the last 12 months, the file size, 211 kilobytes. I’m not making this up. Pep’s story is meant to be told, and his legacy is incomplete until it is. Pep knows it, up there somewhere, hence the constant reminders. Call it what you want. Whatever it is, it’s the same thing driving me to write this 2/11 piece an hour before I turn 40, while vacationing in Puerto Rico, so that it’s ready to post on 2/11. I could be on the beach. I should be on the beach. My flight back to a frigid New York takes off tomorrow, on 2/11.

February 11, 1949. Pep’s contract for the 1st Saddler fight in October had a stipulation — if Pep lost, Saddler must grant a rematch within 90 days. So the rematch was set for 2/11. It was the most anticipated featherweight title fight ever, without a doubt, and the Garden was sold out. 19,097 were in attendance, a record for an indoor featherweight fight. Pep was a heavy underdog — no featherweight had ever regained a lost title. Ever. Pep would have to make history on this night to win back his title. Amidst his professional troubles in the ring, Pep was dealing with a divorce outside of the ring. Pep would marry 6 times in his life and stated often that “all of my wives were good housekeepers. They all kept the house when we divorced.” But Pep had an even bigger problem in the ring, and it was Saddler. Saddler beat Pep bad their first fight. And here’s why I believe you can’t put Mayweather with the greats just yet, or Marciano, though many do it, and many will jump on me for stating otherwise. I believe a fighter can’t be great until he loses, and we see how said fighter responds to the loss. Every great fighter had his rival, his nemesis — Ali had Frazier, Graziano had Zale, Leonard/Hearns, Gatti/Ward, Robinson/LaMotta — Pep had Saddler. Pep’s loss to Saddler wasn’t what he wanted, but in the end, the rivalry with Saddler took Pep to his greatest heights. The men fought 4 times in 3 years, Saddler winning 3 of the 4 bouts. After the rematch at the Garden, they would set an outdoor featherweight record in fall of 1950, Pep-Saddler III, boxing in front of 38,000 at Yankee Stadium. Their 4th match was at the Polo Grounds, in the fall of ‘51. By then interest had waned some in the rivalry and the fighters. Only 14,000 were in attendance, and the fight became one of the ugliest, dirtiest fights in boxing history, so embarrassing for the sport that both fighters received extensive suspensions. Pep didn’t fight in New York for another 3 years, his license revoked. Saddler got the better of Pep in both of those fights, but Saddler brought out the absolute best in Pep on February 11, 1949. Pep was a great fighter who had been defeated. He was down and out, left for dead. Only the best can rise from those ashes. If a fighter never loses, or doesn’t lose and win the rematch, in my humble opinion, we can never really know how great he really is.

On this night, 2/11, Pep shocked the world. Pep fought the fight of his life, leaving everything in the ring. Fifteen brutal rounds, both of his eyes closed at the end of the fight, his face swollen from the pounding of Saddler’s gloves, but Pep didn’t go down, fought his fight, kept his feet moving, the footwork that made him so special, and he delivered a strong offensive of his own, jabs and hooks and counters, and Saddler couldn’t put Pep away once and for all. Pep outpointed Saddler, scoring the upset, and regained his title like no featherweight had done before him. The New York Times called it “a startling upset.” Pep’s win on 2/11/49 is considered one of the great comebacks in sport history, the fight tabbed “Fight of the Year” by Ring Magazine. The win brought Pep’s status to a whole new level, made him a household name to another generation of post-war fight fans, a celebrity. Endorsements, appearances, interviews — he received the Key to the City in Hartford, welcomed home by a parade in the streets of downtown. To further add to the mystique of Pep’s legacy and this night in boxing history, the film from 2/11 is nowhere to be found. If anyone tells you they have footage of Pep’s monumental victory, they are lying. It doesn’t exist. That great night only exists as boxing fans and writers and historians told the story in the days and years that followed — the story of a legendary fighter in his finest moment.

A movie about Pep’s life has been in development, on and off, for decades. Frankie Avalon was to play Pep in a film being developed in the 50's. In the late 60's, a company by the name of Falcone Pictures was set to make Pep’s film (per an article I found in the Hartford Courant) and rumor has it Al Pacino (I found no hard evidence, only word of mouth) was to play the elusive Pep in the late 70's, but that project fell apart, too. Ross Greenburg, former President of HBO Sports, wanted to make a Pep film in the late 80's, even shared his treatment with me a few years back, but that also did not happen. Pep is as elusive a film subject as he was a boxer. It’s up to me and Jim now. We have rights, we have support from key people in the film and boxing industries, and we’re 6 years into this thing. It gets tougher everyday to “keep punching” as Pep always signed for fans, but we both believe, and we’ve come so far, and we’re closer than ever, and on those days when I’m ready to throw in the towel and tell Jim enough is enough, maybe Pep’s amazing story will continue to go untold, inevitably my phone rings for the first time all day and it’s 2:11, or I’m lost somewhere like I was in Boston not too long ago only to find I’m standing outside house number 211, or my birthday rolls around and I’m not thinking about 2/10 and the sand and sun outside my hotel room but of 2/11 and the greatest fighter you never heard of, the Hartford Tornado, the Will O’ the Wisp, Willie Pep.