The Prizefighters Of Pawcatuck

“I remember the cars lined up, bumper to bumper and crawling along Liberty Street on fight nights.” 

Judge Joseph Purtill was only ten-years-old as he watched the procession from the vantage point of his grandmother’s front porch on Stillman Avenue. Boxing was a lively and regular feature in Pawcatuck at the Knights of Columbus arena constructed in 1928, just off Stillman Avenue.

Although boxing had long been a popular pastime in the United States, second only to baseball in the second half of the 19th century, the legalization of prize-fighting in Connecticut in 1921 instituted not only regulatory reforms, but also made the sport much more accessible. And it provided a substantial cut to the Connecticut Athletic Commission.

Although Judge Purtill was just a boy, he vividly recalls the arena: “It was wooden, octagonal, and wooden bleachers were built in layers.” 

He accompanied his father one Wednesday evening: “Selby was the announcer. He had a distinct, sonorous voice and he wore a white shirt with a bow tie. He lived on Walnut Street.” 

The small, well-lit locker room with a built-in cot is clearly described by the Judge, now in his 80s, although he doesn’t remember much about the fight. Hookie Jackson was there on the cot, one of the most accomplished and legendary of the Pawcatuck pugilists. The room underneath the arena was crowded with spectators and someone was working on Hookie’s muscles.

In the midst of prohibition and the depression-era landscape of the 1920s and 30s, the weekly boxing matches were an exciting diversion for spectators, fighters, and especially for young boys like Joseph Purtill, Dominic Digangi, Jim Spellman, Frank “Chief” Azzinarro, and Sammy Sammataro. Their memories are the only lasting legacy of the arena that was torn down in 1936.

Dominic Digangi, now 90 years old, still lives in the house where he was born, "on the third step," he claims, on Stillman Avenue. In a neighborhood where many parents didn’t speak English and “Mickey Donovan owned the only baseball glove,” fight nights provided excitement and even opportunity. As a boy of six or seven, Digangi was sent to fill two galvanized buckets with water at a local farm, the closest place with running water, and brought them to the arena for the fighters. In return, he was paid ten cents and discretely allowed to stay and watch the bouts.

Technically, children were not allowed, although they often snuck under the canvas or spied through the gaps. Digangi was an enterprising young man and he also brought gallons of vinegar from a store on Pleasant and Canal Streets, which the fighters used to rub on their ears and nose. They also soaked their hands in the vinegar before a fight to toughen the skin.

Frank “Chief” Azzinarro remembers hanging around the arena as a boy on a fight night and if there were empty seats the promoters would pull up the corners of the tents and let the kids in for free.

Sam Sammatarro, yet another opportunity seeking boy, snuck in under the canvas because he couldn’t afford a ticket.

The fights drew huge crowds of mostly men, although women were welcome and ladies' nights were sometimes promoted. In its first year of operation,1928, it was noted in The Westerly Sun, “About 30 women were present at the show last night. Boxing is proving very popular with the fairer sex, as can be seen by the fact that there were only four ladies at the last show.” 

The age-old axiom, “Nothing draws a crowd as quickly as a fight,” certainly inspired the construction of the K. of C. Arena. It was reported in July of 1928 that the newly constructed “Tex Rickard” style arena had seating for 1500 fans and tickets were selling fast at Shea’s Newsstand, Barbour’s Drug Store, and Salimeno’s Pool Hall.

James Spellman, First-Selectman of Stonington for 24 years and the Town Judge for six, remembers helping his father build the arena. The Spellman family was very involved in boxing. His Uncle Mickey was a timekeeper and he did some boxing himself, but not in Pawcatuck. Mr. Spellman's father grew up in Pawcatuck and shared his knowledge of "the manly art" readily.

Digangi remembers, “Every young guy that grew up in Downerville, he taught them all to defend themselves.”  But he also taught them to never to pick a fight.

On July 29, 1928 Joe Russo of Westerly, amateur welterweight champion of Rhode Island, made his first professional appearance in Pawcatuck. Like many other fighters, and following a long tradition of Noms de Guerre, Joe Russo was the stage name used by Angelo Sposato, according to his son Charlie. In his case, he used a stage name because his grandfather was deadset against professional boxing. His uncle Willie Sposato fought under the name, “Battling Irk.”  It seems everyone had a nickname, even the trainers and promoters like "Tippy" Salimeno and "Chick" Ferraro.

Hookie Jackson’s given name was Alec Panceira. His stage name allegedly came from his incorrigible habit of skipping school (Hookie) combined with the last name of the local truant officer (Jackson). 

Others called themselves Big Boy Burlap, Farmer Hill, Cocoa Kid, Booker Williams, and even Pancho Villa. Digangi also remembers that Big Boy Burlap was “... a monster, a devastating hitter with a short punch. He eventually had to pay men to fight him. He was a southpaw and Farmer Hill was one tough dude.” 

Rosemarie Grill's father fought under the name Jimmie Rossi and Charlie Sposato's father fought professionally because it was lucrative. A fight was worth $100-$200 dollars for someone like Joe Russo, a main draw. A considerable sum by Depression-era standards. A preliminary bout with lesser known fighters could bring $4-$6 and there was always a chance of the main bout purse of $35 and the big ticket names also received a percentage of the gate.

Although illegal in Connecticut, prize fights weren’t unheard of in the 19th century. In 1870, the 16 acre summer resort and hotel on Ram Island hosted an illegal prize fight. Fans arrived by boat in an attempt to deter the authorities, and they watched 41 bloody bare-fisted rounds between Billy Edwards and Sam Collyer. Another early match was recorded somewhat cryptically in the Stonington Mirror on March 19, 1887 that relayed some of the secrecy surrounding an illegal prize fight. “A brutal and bloody prize fight occurred near Westerly last Thursday night between Ike Weir and Jack Williams for the featherweight championship of the world. Only about 20 persons were in the room where the fight took place. The fight lasted two hours and twenty-two minutes, thirty six rounds being fought. The stakes were $100 and an outside bet of $500.” 

The Toronto Daily Mail’s report of the coming attraction was even vaguer. Alongside results for cricket matches, an owl shooting contest, and tobogganing, the paper reported, “Ike Weir, the “Belfast Spider” and Jack Williams of Boston, are matched to fight to a finish within 100 miles of New York.”  At stake were a $400 purse and a diamond-studded championship belt.

Professional boxing was illegal until 1921. Offended by the sport's brutality and its undeniable associations with crime, gambling, and drinking, many were opposed. The bill to legalize and regulate the sport was voted down twice before being ratified on January 28. It created a Connecticut Athletic Commission to oversee rules, compliance, and collect numerous fees. Made possible through loopholes in the laws, “Amateur” or exhibition rounds had been a regular feature at local athletic clubs and community houses.

These establishments required membership,  not only participate, but also to watch. Venues for these amateur bouts included the Lorraine Mills Community House, St. Michael’s Parish School House, White Rock Arena, The Armory in New London, Pequot Theater in Mystic, and the Mystic Athletic Club. Although boxing is considered the purest of sports, “the manly art of self-defense,” pitting man against man with virtually no equipment other than their gloved hands, there are seemingly endless supportive roles. The matchmaker, bottle holder, timekeeper, referee, trainer, promoter, water boy, announcer and the ringside doctor are all essential to the sport. But also vital is the sports reporter. The unique style of blow-by-blow reporting has a long tradition.

Most of Pawcatuck's boxing history was recorded in the Westerly Sun by “Abe,” the byline of editor Abe Soloveitzik. He reported weekly on the local bouts in a column called Sports Talk. Often they were accompanied by cartoons and caricatures of the fighters, promoters, and trainers along with editorial comments. Abe wrote in 1936 that two serious blows to boxing had occurred: the demolition of the St. Michael’s K. of C. Arena and the retirement of Hookie Jackson.

After a disastrous bout at Madison Square Garden, Hookie hung up his gloves. (He attempted a brief come-back in 1939.) He also mentioned that crowds had been thinning at the K. of C. arena and ticket prices were lowered in an effort to attract more fans.

In July of 1937, he wrote in The Westerly Sun, “It was only the other day—after searching vainly for several weeks—that it hit us right between the eyes. There haven’t been any boxing bouts at St Michael’s Arena this season...Charles “Chick”  Ferraro, the boxing maestro, who grew gray hairs overnight,...put the X to the fight game one day last fall when he ordered the St. Michael’s Arena demolished and sold to the highest bidder for kindling, chicken coops or for anything else said bidder might desire several thousand feet of rain soaked lumber.”

And in 1939, Abe waxed nostalgically without his typical dynamic style. His reverie peppered with visual memories: “I could see those raging battles between Hookie Jackson and Joe Russo; I could see the wind-up of their most spectacular fight, Russo prone on the floor, Jackson tense fists in his corner waiting to blaze his fists once again into the beaten face of his friendly rival; I could see big lumbering Big boy Burlap waddling his way around the ring...I could see the crowds, their passions change as the fortunes of their favorites dimmed and then brightened.” 

Boxing in Pawcatuck was over, but not to be forgotten. There were several reunions and celebrations of boxing over the years. In 1961, more than 200 ex-fighters, trainers, matchmakers, promoters and fans gathered to celebrate their shared history at the Leather Pusher’s Reunion. An exhibit was assembled at the Westerly Library in the 1980’s with a variety of boxing ephemera and a visit from some of the surviving fighters. Master of Ceremonies was Abe Soloveitzik.

Today, the St. Michael’s K. of C. Arena is only remembered by those who were young boys - sneaking under the canvas, carrying water, and watching their fathers train at the local gymnasium.

Dave Erskine is the retired Chief of Police and a current member of the Society's Board of Directors. He has researched the history of boxing, and many other sports, in Stonington, Mystic, and Pawcatuck. 

Special thanks to Rosemarie Grills, Charlie Sposato, Sam Sammatarro, Dominic Digangi, Santo Panceira, Frank Azzinarro, James Spellman, and Joseph Purtill.

Please join us for "" at the  on November 15 at 6 p.m. with Dave Erskine & Marsha Standish. We anticipate that several of the gentlemen interviewed  for this article will be present for the program.

This article is featured in the newest newsletter of the , Historical Footnotes. For more information on becoming a member of the society visit the Stonington Historical Society at stoningtonhistory.org.