August 21, 2002

And in This Corner,
The Insurance Broker

There is a sign on the wall at Gleason's, Brooklyn's storied boxing gym, posting an invitation from the poet Virgil: "Now whoever has courage, and a strong and collected spirit in his breast, let him come forth, lace up his gloves, and put up his hands."

Since 1937, boxers with their eyes on Olympic glory or a shot at the title have been answering Virgil's call. Jake LaMotta and Roberto Duran both trained at Gleason's. So did Benny (Kid) Paret, the welterweight world champion who ultimately lost his life in the ring after a Madison Square Garden title fight with Emile Griffith. Before his first title fight against Sonny Liston, Muhammad Ali, then known as Cassius Clay, trained at Gleason's.

For the past five years, Philip Maier has been answering the call, too. Mr. Maier will never fight in the Garden, but he trains alongside some who will. And by paying his dues at Gleason's, he helps make possible the dreams of others.

Mr. Maier, 44, a New York state administrative law judge, is an example of what Gleason's owner Bruce Silverglade calls his businessman clientele. If it were not for him, and others like him, Gleason's might have gone down for the count in the way of rival gyms.

Boxing in New York City is nothing like it was. There are fewer fighters, fewer gyms, and fewer boxing shows. But Gleason's on Front Street, a block from the East River, is a thriving outpost of an aging empire. Fighters from all over the world come here to learn the art of how to hit without being hit.

There are still world-class fighters hitting the heavy bag there, including Zab Judah, who is looking to regain the junior welterweight (140 pounds) title he lost to Kostya Tszyu last November, and David Telesco, a top-ranked light heavyweight (175 pounds).

But professional fighters at the gym are now in the minority. Of the roughly 800 fighters registered at the gym, Mr. Silverglade says, about 185 are professionals. Another 150 are licensed amateurs. The remaining 465 or so are businessmen, with about 160 of the "businessmen" being women. Everyone pays the same $60 a month in gym dues, except for licensed amateurs, who pay $50.

The fight game has declined to the point where there are perhaps 50 men in all of New York City who earn their full living as boxers, Mr. Silverglade estimates. About half train at Gleason's. Twenty years ago, a beginning professional could gross $350 to $400 for a four-round bout. Today, he might earn the same amount, and there are far fewer fights. Now, as then, the fighter will pay 10% of the purse to his trainer and a third to his manager. The result is that more boxers train out of Las Vegas, where the casinos provide consistent opportunity, and in the South with its lower cost of living -- and yet more casinos in the Gulf Coast states.

While in the mid-1970s there were 150 boxing gyms in the city, Mr. Silverglade says, today there are perhaps 10.

Enter the businessmen. They hit speed bags and jump rope side-by-side with the pros, and shadowbox and spar in the same four rings. They employ the same trainers who work at the gym as independent contractors. By all accounts, the recreational boxers co-exist respectfully with the pros. Said Mitch "Blood" Green, a veteran heavyweight who went the distance with Mike Tyson when Tyson was in his savage prime: "It's good for their bodies and their minds to keep in shape. It's all good."

Once a month, the gym sponsors White Collar Boxing nights where Gleason's fighters and all comers from other gyms can enter three-round fights, complete with cornermen, referees and a crowd at ringside.

A recent card included an insurance broker, lawyers, a museum educator, a musician, students, a car mechanic, an editor and a hairdresser. Mr. Maier was one of the more experienced fighters, having sparred in 40 such events.

Despite his persistence -- many businessmen come and go in a matter of months -- Mr. Maier approached the bout with a sense of humor. "Do you want my excuses now or later?" he asks.

The judge had hoped to be matched against Dmitry Feygin, a computer consultant for J.P. Morgan Chase, who shares the same trainer. Instead, he was matched up with Lionel Chamblee, a 17-year-old licensed amateur representing the Bedford Stuyvesant Boxing Center, also in Brooklyn.

Mr. Chamblee displayed brisk jabs, several of which met Mr. Maier's noggin. Still, the judge stood in and tried to cut off the ring, mostly without success. By the third round, he was able to pick off enough of the jabs to land a few body shots of his own. Like all the white-collar bouts, there was no official winner. Asked his reaction to the fight, Mr. Maier said, "I'd say my reaction is he was pretty good."

If Mr. Maier was outpointed that night, he will fight another day. When he started boxing in 1997, it was to get in shape and partly to unleash frustrations from a divorce he was going through at the time. Those frustrations are gone, he says, "Now the boxing is on its own."

Mr. Ackman last wrote on the New York City Cycling Championship for the Journal.