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Few outsiders might expect anyone with a tender nature to thrive in a sport that calls on punches to earn acclaim and applause. Angelo Dundee, however, made boxing gyms and rings the primary places to exhibit his tenacious yet thoughtful approach to overcoming external and internal opponents.
The revered trainer of hundreds of pugilists, including 15 world champions, passed away Feb. 1 in Oldsmar, Fla., at the age of 90, two weeks after helping Muhammad Ali, his most renowned fighter, celebrate his 70th birthday.
According to son Jimmy Dundee, the former Angelo Mirena had a brief hospitalization stay for a blood clot two weeks ago and spent time in a rehabilitation center before returning to his apartment, the site of his death. A native of the 800 block of Morris Street and an alumnus of South Philadelphia High School, 2101 S. Broad St., Mr. Dundee devoted more than 60 years to preparing punchers for physical and mental tests, with 21 prosperous years going toward assisting fellow icon Ali.
“When Angelo Dundee spoke, everyone listened,” associate and prominent promoter J. Russell Peltz said Friday of his fellow International Boxing Hall of Fame enshrinee.
His gregarious demeanor drew Mr. Dundee many devotees, but Peltz noted the figure downplayed his significance in favor of trumpeting his scrappers’ talents. His skills, however, seem fated to become as synonymous with boxing’s lore as any athletes’ abilities.
Born Aug. 30, 1921, the East Passyunk Crossing product had devised a career as an aircraft inspector, but the switch from prop to jet power would have necessitated more training, so he removed planes from his plans. His early boxing education came from brother Joe Mirena, a fledgling fighter. As the ring resident admired a boxer named Dundee, he changed his name. Mr. Dundee joined him in swapping, not knowing he would soon align himself with another personality who would likewise drop his given name.
His knowledge flourished in England during World War II. A serviceman for the Army Air Forces, he acted as a cornerman during military tournaments. He earned an apprenticeship at New York City’s Stillman Gym, handling cuts and taping hands. Teeming with ambition after gaining a reputation as a skilled worker and ebullient companion, he moved to Miami in the late ’50s. With his brother Chris as the financial overseer, Mr. Dundee opened the Fifth Street Gym. The decade closed with his introduction to amateur hopeful Cassius Clay in the young man’s hometown of Louisville, Ky.
The two discussed nuances of their sport, and Clay, a soon-to-be Olympic champion, soaked up the session’s contents. However, he later rebuffed his elder when Mr. Dundee inquired about training him. The sleek Clay, whose mouth would soon join his jabs in bringing him fame, won his first bout Oct. 29, ’60, and, thanks to a handler’s outreach, would take on Mr. Dundee as his trainer two months later.
Thus began a fruitful partnership that included 53 wins from 58 contests and three heavyweight titles. Clay converted to Islam in ’64, adopting the name Muhammad Ali to reflect his new faith. Though new faces joined his camp, Mr. Dundee acted as a motivating mainstay.
“Angelo was just a positive guy who loved to accentuate the good,” Peltz, who met Mr. Dundee in ’72 and booked two dozen fights through the late mentor, said of his business partner’s gift for finding the best means to sustain esteem and bolster tenacity.
He also sought to craft chances for the oppressed, as Peltz relayed an apocryphal tale through which Mr. Dundee guarded money and belongings from Cuban fighters who yearned to escape Fidel Castro’s rule for chances to excel in Miami.
“I believe it’s true,” Peltz, the former boxing director at the Spectrum, 3601 S. Broad St., said of Mr. Dundee, whom he usually bonded with at the annual Hall of Fame induction ceremonies in Canastota, N.Y. “He had a big personality, and that story would prove it more.”
Though still a force, Ali reduced his schedule as he approached middle age, and Mr. Dundee, remaining faithful to his pupil yet added Sugar Ray Leonard to his roster of students in the late ’70s. The welterweight dynamo, already an accomplished presence, gave Mr. Dundee, who had dubbed the fighter “a smaller Ali” for his boundless energy and gusto, another champion Nov. 30, ’79, when he dropped Wilfred Benitez in their final round of their battle.
Mr. Dundee, who had prepared Ali for wars against the likes of George Foreman, Joe Frazier and Ken Norton, assisted Leonard as he gunned for glory against Roberto Duran, Marvin Hagler and Thomas Hearns. Duran, who had defeated Leonard June 20, ’80, could not withstand his adversary’s punches, which had become more lethal courtesy of Mr. Dundee, later that year, as Leonard inflicted so much punishment that his foe famously declared “No mas, no mas,” meaning “No more, no more.”
Peltz said Mr. Dundee never vowed to become a pioneer. As a boy, Peltz became aware of Mr. Dundee’s training prowess and observed in his eventual ally a heightened respect for all involved in what could be a brutal business.
“I can’t even remember Angelo badmouthing anybody, ever,” he said.
Mr. Dundee certainly believed, when many others thought it foolish, that Foreman, an Ali knockout victim in ’74’s “The Rumble in the Jungle,” could again become a world champion. Though 45 years old, Foreman still possessed an impressive skill set in ’94 when Mr. Dundee prepared him for his title shot against Michael Moorer.
The fighter and trainer turned back time, as Moorer became Foreman’s 68th and final knockout. Inducted into the Hall of Fame two years earlier, Mr. Dundee needed nothing to prove his legacy, but the Foreman triumph cemented his winner status. It also reinforced a trait he and Foreman shared — courtesy. Though Foreman showed Moorer none of it, his preparation let the press see how jovial he and his trainer were.
“He did have a line about it not costing anything more to be nice,” Peltz said.
Mr. Dundee also trained actor Russell Crowe for his portrayal of James J. Braddock in 2005’s “Cinderella Man” and moved to Florida two years later to be closer to his son and daughter, Terri. He lost his wife Helen two years ago, but his remaining clan surrounded him when he passed.
Peltz said Mr. Dundee often enjoyed countering claims that boxing is diminishing in importance.
“He said ‘They’ve buried boxing so many times, they’ve run out of shovels,’” Peltz said. “He was a great spokesman for our mutual passion.”
Contact Staff Writer Joseph Myers at jmyers@southphillyreview.com or ext. 124.
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