Boxing's Mob Squad
Book Review of Jacobs Beach: The Mob, the Fights, the Fifties.

Jacobs Beach: The Mob, the Fights, the Fifties.
by Kevin Mitchell.
320 pages. $26.95 ($17.79 @ Amazon). Pegasus books.
Release date Dec. 15, 2010.
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Book review by Chris Cozzone

Long before the networks put a rear naked choke on boxing; before there were 1,001 champs fighting for 1,001 titles under 1,001 sanctioning bodies, there was New York, Madison Square Garden, one major promoter and a handful of hoods who controlled the game.

Golden era? You bet.

Was the fix in? Oftentimes, yeah.

Boxing’s ties to the wise guys is the subject of Kevin Mitchell’s Jacobs Beach: The Mob, the Fights, the Fifties. Not quite as in-depth as his sharpshooting War Baby, which relived the tragic, controversial battle between Nigel Benn and Gerald McClellan, Jacobs Beach is more like a mobster’s Tommy gun bullet spray – usually hitting its mark, once in a while missing, but the assault, regardless, serving as a painful reminder that boxing has always been, always will be, somewhat corrupt.

And eternally fascinating, as well.

Ditto for Jacobs Beach. The quintessential book on the relationship between organized crime and boxing would be too large to print – and about as likely to bring to light as, say, the body of Jimmy Hoffa. Jacobs Beach, however, is what it is – an entertaining read, with Mitchell not just throwing down the facts, but setting ‘em up with a jab and then nailing home the point with punchy prose A. J. Liebling or Damon Runyan would’ve winked at.

Mitchell reintroduces us to all the hoods of yesteryear, including the sinister Frankie Carbo, Blinky Palermo and Jim Norris, head of the octopus-like International Boxing Club that controlled the sport until the U.S. Supreme Court broke its hold in 1959. If you wanted a shot at the title, or a fight at the Garden, you had to be connected. The careers and dealings of Joe Louis, James J. Braddock, Johnny Bratton, Jake La Motta, Sonny Liston and a host of other fighters are probed, though there is, really, not much new to add to what’s already been speculated on or printed.

On the other hand, Mitchell offers an engaging account of the mob and boxing – a sort of dummies guide to the subject on wise guys and pugs that’s as fun to read as watching “On the Waterfront” or “Requiem for a Heavyweight.”

As a bonus, Mitchell throws in several chapters written from interviews with ring veterans Al Certo, Lou Duva, Bert Sugar and Leroy Neiman. Their “back in the day” recounts round out this recommended read.