The Sad Tales of Two Danny's
In the late 1960s and into the early '70's I trained two amateur fighters named Danny. Out of respect for their families, I will omit their last names. One Danny was called "Black Danny" by his friends because he was very dark-skinned, the other Danny was called "Big Danny" because he was a big guy, a heavyweight.
The two Dannys, who came from a gang-infested, drug-littered and dangerous area in the San Gabriel Valley, ran together with the same friends but were very different guys; Black Danny was a shy and easy-going guy. In contrast, Big Danny was loud and a bully.
Black Danny
I started training Black Danny in early 1968 and fought him at amateur shows around the Southland. Danny was a hard worker in the gym, and it paid off for him when he won the 1969 novice, Los Angeles, Golden Gloves title at 139 pounds. After winning the Golden Gloves, he told me that he would take about six months off boxing. He said that after he came back, he would like to turn pro.
I ran into Danny around town a few times; he always looked in great shape, like he was ready to fight. I would always tell him not to wait too long to get back to the gym "you don't want to lose too must of that fighting edge," I would tell him.
One night, I got a phone call from Danny's dad. "Danny is dead," he told me. He said, in between sobs, that since Danny had stopped boxing, he had gotten heavy into gang life. He had tried to stop him, but how do you stop a seventeen-year-old from doing what he wants to do? He asked. I knew the man to be a good father; I also knew it was not his fault. I told him so, but in losing a son, I don't know that that meant much…I waited till, after the services, to ask about the details as to how Danny died; his dad told me that Danny was sitting in a car on Whittier Blvd in East Los Angeles when a guy approached the car and through the window shot Danny in the chest…Danny was a great kid that I believe was a victim of circumstances, in that he lived among the gangs… Danny's boxing record was 18-1…. R.I.P.
Big Danny
Big Danny was the complete opposite of Black Danny. Big Danny was a big guy who didn't hesitate to push his weight around with the smaller guys. I started training Big Danny in 1969. I would take him to the local gyms to get some sparring, but not many wanted to spar with him because if they kicked his ass in the ring, he wanted to continue the sparring in the parking lot.
One Friday afternoon around 1970, I drove Big Danny and other boys to the Chino Boxing gym in Chino, Calif. The boys all got sparring, and they did really well; Danny held his own with his sparring partner, and he was a happy guy; I was pleased too that there was no need to go into the parking lot. The next day as I was reading the newspaper, I saw a mug shot of a guy that looked like Big Danny. I read the story, and sure enough, it was Big Danny's mug shot. The article said that Big Danny had been at a seedy hotel in downtown Los Angeles where a guy had gotten shot by the cops, but it was at the same time we were in Chino the previous day. So the cops were looking for Danny, but, for what? I never got an answer to that.
While looking for Danny, the cops broke in the door of a second-story room at the hotel; the room was full of illegal immigrants who jumped out the windows, thinking it was La Migra (immigration). So besides one guy that got shot by a trigger-happy cop, some others suffered broken bones.
Somehow the F.B.I. got involved, they came to my house and interviewed me, asked me if I was sure Danny was with me on that day, and on that time of day, I told them that, yes, Danny was with me that particular time of day, they seem satisfied, and I never heard from them again. I found out later that the F.B.I. had started investigating the LAPD for violating the illegal's civil rights.
Big Danny never went back to the gym, and I lost touch with him. He never again fought in the ring. It was too bad about his life choices because he had boxing talent…Then, about a year or two later, I heard that he had been shot and killed by somebody that got tired of being pushed around by him... R.I.P.
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