Kayo's Last Fight
KAYO'S LAST FIGHT
BY
KEITH LAUFENBERG
-1-
THE STORY
If the works of the great poets teach anything, it is to hold mere invention somewhat cheap. It is not the finding of a thing, but the making of something out of it after it is found, that is of consequence.
J.R. Lowell, My Study Windows: Chaucer.
I was at a local hospital in Miami, wondering what the hell I was doing there, even though I knew I was chasing after a story on a drug-addicted former All-Star baseball player, when a tap on my shoulder spun me around, on my heels. It was a cop I had known for two decades; we went back to the 60's when I was covering the sports beat for a small local paper. He greeted me with his usual effusive pleasantness and we shook hands.
'What's up Scoop?' He called me Scoop, even though no one else did but I got back at him by calling him Sarge, even though he had only been a lowly patrolman for over two decades.
'Ah-ehh, just chasing a story, you know how it is, Sarge?'
'Yeah. Former All-Star now a drug-addict, huh?'
'Yeah, well, he's still news though, y'know?'
'Sure-sure. Gotta make a livin' hey Scoop?'
'Yeah, what ayah doin' over here Sarge?'
'Got a call on a disturbance at Fifty-ninth Street and Fifteenth Avenue, Germ City. Yeah. A couple a kids caught in a crossfire; a drive-by crossfire. A mess. Woulda been worse if Kayo hadn't come along. Saved a couple of kids' lives.'
'Kayo?'
'Yeah. An ex-fighter. Kurt Kirkland, I think his real name was. They used to call him Kayo Kurt. The Kayo Kid; everybody jus' calls him Kayo around town.'
'Fought on the Beach in the 60's and 70's. A middleweight, right Sarge?'
'That's him Scoop ol' boy. He could fight too. Caught some tough breaks though. He's been livin' around here for years. Dude used to have some say on these streets too. Wasn't afraid a the devil himself but then the drug-dealers came along and ain't nobody safe; don't matter how good a fighter you are, hell this was a drive-by. Kayo got in between the bullets and a couple a kids. Saved their lives but he took a half-dozen bullets in the chest. They don't expect him to live through the night. Why'int yah check on him Scoop?'
'Yeah, maybe I will. I interviewed him once, years ago, believe it or not.'
Sarge informed me that Kayo was in intensive care and that maybe my paper would be able to at least include him in an obituary column, being as he was headed for a pauper's grave, more than likely with no mourners, or anyone even knowing that he had died.
-2-
INTENSIVE CARE
It sounds like a joke, but a hospital is no place for a sick person to be.
Dr. Lowell Levin, Yale University.
The world' s chief idol, nurse of fretting cares,
Dumb trafficker, yet understood o'er all.---William Alexander, Doomsday: Tenth Hour.
I accosted a nurse who directed me to the doctor who was in charge of the intensive care unit. He informed me that the patient in question bad taken five slugs from an Uzi machine pistol and was beyond help but that they had sedated him as best they could. When I asked him what he meant by being beyond help he informed me that the man was unlikely to live through the night and that if they attempted to operate on him he would unquestionably die. He asked me if I was a friend or relative and I replied that I was but an interested reporter. When I explained that he had been a prizefighter of some note the physician looked bewildered when I asked him if I could interview him. The doctor looked at me as if I were from another planet, then shrugged his shoulders and hissed:
'I don't see why not, although I doubt if he'll be able to respond to you. He's over there.' He nodded toward a corner of the room, then scurried out.
I walked over to where a white, silk curtain was drawn in front of what looked like a rollaway hospital bed. I peeked behind the curtain and saw Kayo; needles sticking in both his anns and tubes up his nose. He looked either asleep or dead. A nurse approached me.
'Sir, I'll have to ask you to leave, this is intensive care and''''''''
'Doctor uh-er Abrams, I think was his name, said I could interview this man.'
'Interview?'
I flashed my reporter's I.D. and explained who the patient was and the nurse gave me the same look the doctor had.
'Isn't there something they can do to save this guy?'
2
This time she looked as if she had swallowed a mouthful of kerosene when she snapped:
'Everything is being done. He IS itinerant you know?'
'Itinerant? He's lived around here for twenty years?'
'You know what I mean. He has NO INSURANCE!'
I couldn't believe my ears.
'So you let him die?'
The nurse gave me the kerosene look again and spat:
'People die everyday, sir!'
I opened my mouth but she was in the wind before I could reply.
-3-
A FRIEND IN NEED
Life without a friend is death without a witness.---George Herbert, Jacula Prudentum.
But he is my friend
That helps me in the end.---Unknown, Roxburghe Ballads, iii, 288. (1640)
I pulled a chair up to the bed and stared at the supine figure and my memory took me back two decades, to a summer day in 1966 and the Fifth Street Gym in Miami Beach. Kayo was subbing in for an injured fighter and was fighting the main event that coming Tuesday, even though he had been in town less than a week. I was interviewing him and he was cracking jokes about what a tough guy he was. He had just finished a workout and was sitting on a rubdown table that doubled as a sit-up and exercise bench. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him and he was telling me that he wanted to gain a few pounds because the guy he was fighting was a light-heavyweight and he didn't want to give away too much weight. Kayo suddenly moaned and I snapped quickly back to the present. Could this really be the same person; lying sprawled out on a gurney, with bandages plugging up a half-dozen holes in his body, while a series of tubes and needles barely kept him alive. He was staring at me now and I saw him smile, as he croaked:
'Where am I man? Don't 'zactlee look like heaven?'
I tried to clear a frog from my throat, than tried to smile, succeeding in neither.
'You're in the hospital Kayo. You took five slugs, and, and uh-ah''''''''. 'The kids? Did they get hit?'
'No, No they didn't. You saved their lives.'
3
Kayo's eyes narrowed and he croaked:
'You sure they're aw'rye man?'
'Sure I'm sure. I talked to the cops myself'
'Yeah. You're not a cop then?'
'No, ah-er, no, I'm a reporter; Danny Greb.'
I quickly moved my hand to clasp his, when I saw him struggling to push his hand out.
'Where, I mean, do I know you?'
'I interviewed you once, about twenty years ago. You had just blown into Miami Beach and were fighting the main-go. You gave away some weight, if I remember correctly?'
'Yeah, Sixty-six. Jimmy Ralston. Dumb ass referee stopped it inna seventh.'
'Oh? I ah-er, don't remember the fight myself'
'No. Well take my word for it pal. We wuz both counter-punchers and the ref was lookin' to stop it cuz a the crowd; booin' and shit. Ah'haaacck, man, I ain't long for diz world.'
I tried to smile and shook my head.
'C'mon Kayo, you'll pull through. Probably out-live me'
'Naw man. Only money-men and hustlers live to a hundred man. Dudes like me; we're a dime a dozen man. And we get shot'n killed everyday man.'
I wondered if he knew he was going to die; he seemed as if he didn't care but what would I know. I shook my head and tried to smile.
'You mean guys like Donald Trump, huh?'
'Donald Trump I don't know; Chris Dundee I know and the dude must be eighty, ninety years old man.'
'Chris Dundee?'
'Yeah, a real hustler but then they all were. Ah-well but now a contradiction, come to think of it Bill Miller died of an H-cha-A when he was around forty years old.'
'Bill Miller?'
'Promoted fights in Vay-guz man. I turned pro out there twenty years ago, in the sixties man.'
'Vegas, huh?'
'Yeah, ahhahuhh, oh man. My side, Gee'zuz, Sweet Gee'zuz!'
I saw how much Kayo was hurting and thought I should go for a nurse or doctor but then remembered the two I had already spoken with; he'd probably be better off without the likes of either one of them, He seemed to want to talk and so I tried another lame smile and barked:
'How was Las Vegas to fight in? Better than Miami?'
'Oh shit man, Vay-guz is a fight town man. They pay three times what Dundee pays.'
'Really?'
'Yeah man. Except for the main-go Chris always paid ten bucks a round. Yeah, he'd cut the rounds down to two minute rounds, like he was doin' the fighter's a favor. Hell, sooner or later you gonna have to fight threes anyway, y'know?'
I didn't know but I nodded and mumbled:
'Yeah, I can see your point, Kayo.'
'Yeah L-lay was a good fight town too.'
4
'Oh, you fought in L.A.?'
'Yeah. Fought a couple a fights there. Tee-Vee fights at the Olympic too. Pay was okay but Steindler took his cut right off the top. Din' even work my corner.'
'Steindler?'
'Yeah, Howie Steindler, ran the Main Street Gym. Made like if I didn't sign a contract with him I wouldn't get no fights.'
'Really?'
'Yeah, Gil Strong at the Fifth Street tried to pull that on me too but I din' fall for it man. Shee-it ended up signin' with Angelo a couple fights later anyway.'
'Yeah. How was he for a manager?'
'Aw-eh, aw'right I guess, usually not there though, man. Dude traveled around wid Ali and he managed Jimmy Ellis and a buncha contenders. I was small potatoes for him man. I lost too many.'
'I seen a few of your fights Kayo, I think you won more than I saw you lose.'
Kayo eyed me and smiled, then frowned and I noticed one of his bandages was soaked totally through, in blood.
'Yeah, I uh-ah, oh,man, I, I'''''.
I saw he was in pain but felt helpless to do anything.
'Yeah, I saw you fight Gene Wells at the Auditorium and it seemed like the whole place went wild. You were talkin' to him, remember?'
'Yeah, they aw'wees made me out to be the heavy, don't ask me why. Wells, he was sparrin' wid Ali at the time and he pulls his act on me at the weigh-in, getting' in my face, throwin' punches at me. So, I tol' the dude I'd see him that night and do my talkin' then. So, when the ref is givin' us the instructions I tell Wells I'm gonna kayo 'im.'
'So, that was it, but he was talkin' back to you wasn't he?'
'Yeah, he was man, he jus' was'sin as good a talker as I was. None of the ref's ever liked me to begin with 'cause I'm a counter-puncher but lis'sen that night I was the aggressor man and they still took it from me.'
'The ref stopped it after the fourth or fifth din' he?'
'Yeah and disqualified me for un-sportsman- like conduct. You see Ali talkin' every fight and nothing' happens but a chump like me does it and bam, I'm freakin' disqualified. Ali's a world champ and I'm a punk club-fighter.'
'Yeah, the crowd seemed like they wanted to attack you and you challenged them to do it; I remember you yelling for them to come down to where you were.'
'Yeah a mob is more like what they were. Punks all a 'em.'
'You quit after that fight, didn't you?'
'Man I had quit a long time before that, I was jus' in there for the green and not very much of it at that. I did fight once more in Vay-guz though.'
'Oh, who'd you fight?'
'A Mexican kid name a, um, Vin'cent'tee Medina. Lost a eight-rounder; shoulda took this kid easy, he came right after me just like I like but, hell, I took the fight with barely a week's trainin'
5
and, like I said, my heart wasn't in the game no more man. Yeah, uh, ah eh, ah man, I wish I could just die and get it over wid man.'
I stared into Kayo's eyes and saw pain and hardness, but than his lips parted into a smile and I saw a kindness, a softness, I hadn't expected, as he hissed:
'You like talkin' fights Danny?'
'Oh yeah, yeah I've always been a big fight fan. I saw most of your fights on the Beach Kayo; I was coverin' the sports beat at the time.'
'For real Danny?'
'Oh yeah. You were one of my favorites.'
'What, 'cause I'm white?'
I couldn't help but smile, as it was partly true.
'Because you were good Kayo; when you were on nobody seemed to be able to hit you. I remember your fights with Linnes Johnson and that other kid you knocked down and he claimed it was a low blow?'
'Charlie Jordan, a good fighter, more talented than Linnes but Linnes had more guts though, no quit in the dude. He told me after our second fight he peed blood for a week.'
'Yeah, you were a good body-puncher.'
'Yeah I wanted that fight, probably more'n most and I didn't fight my fight, I ran into a punch he didn't even throw right. I never shoulda let the crowd into it like that. Did it once before wid a southpaw in Vay-guz named Wade Smith and shoulda learned my lesson; you should always fight your fight, not the other guy's.'
I looked into Kayo's eyes and saw pain but then he smiled, when I rasped:
'I'll go get the nurse.'
He moved his hand against my arm and hissed:
'No'awww, Danny, stay here man. I need somebody to talk to; somebody like you man. Somebody who, somebody who un'nerstan's, y'know?'
I nodded and glanced at my watch; we had been talking for almost an hour and I remembered what the doctor had said about his chances of living through the night.
'Kayo, anybody, ah-um, anybody you want me to ah-um tell, ah-er see?'
His hand brushed mine and I saw what passed for another smile.
'Naw, ain't nobody left bro' . Nobody but you 'un me Danny.'
I knew he must have somebody, didn't everybody have somebody?
'Bu''''. but Kayo, you may not have too much time left, you know?'
He laid his hand against my arm again and said something that I couldn't understand,
and had to bend down to hear him, as he rasped:
'We all jus' killin' time here Danny, all a us. This ain't the real life, everything's twisted here. We don't respect the little ones like we will in the real life, the next life.'
'The little ones. Kayo?'
'The kids, the children man. They smarter than any a us dumb-ass grown-ups, the Lord, he's smart see, he shows us everything when we're little; we come here from up above and we know all the right stuff but the Devil, he's smart too, real slick dude, and he drains it all out a us and
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then the world starts puttin' in all the bullshit. Take away love and replace it with ambition, gettin' ahead, bein' somebody, gettin' things, money, stuff, possessions, you know'wha'I mean Danny?'
'Yeah, yeah, I think so Kayo, I think I do know what you mean,'
'Yeah, I jus' need you for a lil' while longer Danny, oh-uh, man, ah, 'cause I'm goin' to the real life soon, gonna have peace soon, oh, oh-man, Lord take me now.'
'Kayo, KAYO!' I screamed his name a few more times but he didn't respond. I tried to feel for a pulse and when I felt none I ran for a nurse or a doctor, somebody, anybody but me alone, alone with, as far as I knew, what may very well be a corpse.
I found what looked like a nurse but was an administrator who said she'd send the doctor over to intensive care immediately, and so ran back towards the intensive care unit, which I found to be empty. I heard Kayo moaning and ran over to him.
'I got a doctor comin' right over.'
He said something but I had to bend to down to understand it.
'Don't need a doctor Danny, stay here man. I ain't gonna be here much longer.'
He mumbled again and I had to put my ear next to his mouth.
'Tell them what Kayo? What?'
'Tell them I love 'em man, tell 'em I love 'em.'
'Tell who you love them Kayo? Who?'
His smile radiated then and he rasped:
'Everybody Danny, everybody; especially the kids Danny, especially the kids. Hey, Danny, I love you man, I love you.' And with that he was gone. Somehow I was glad; it wasn't that he had been in so much pain that made me feel that way either; it was just a feeling, an inexplicable feeling that he was at peace, that and the fact that he had the most peaceful, amazing smile I had ever seen on anyone's face before; alive or dead.
EPILOGUE
KAYO'S LAST FIGHT
I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told.
In the clearing stands a boxer, a fighter by his trade.
And he carries the reminders of every glove that ever laid him down, or cut him 'till he cried out, in his anger and his shame:
I am leaving; I am leaving,
But a fighter still remains.
The Boxer, Simon & Garfunkel.
7
It was a strange day, to say the least. Kayo was being laid to rest, in a pauper's grave, and more people had shown up than I ever could have imagined. True, I had written a piece that had gotten a full page on the sports page of the paper with the largest circulation in the county, and it had revealed when and where he was to be buried but the several hundred people who showed up, had me in a virtual state of shock. A local preacher, who apparently knew Kayo, showed up and said a short eulogy and a prayer. Afterward, at least half the people, or so it seems now, stopped and shook my hand. And, although more than one had had something to say, I only remember three; the first being a man in a three piece, pin-striped, dark gray suit. A lawyer. Seemed he had represented Kayo in a lawsuit against an employer where Kayo had fallen off a roof, having been employed as a carpenter, at the time. He gave me a lawyerly Dick Nixon flash of his ivories and steered me towards a large oak tree, a dozen feet to the rear of the crowded cemetery. When my back pinned itself against the tree, the lawyer barked:
'John Baffles, Esquire; I represented Kayo in a lawsuit, sir, and I understand you were the last person to speak with him?'
When I informed Bartles Esquire that I was indeed the last human being to speak with Kayo, he lowered his voice, conspiratorially:
'I have been offered a rather ah-um, substantial sum of money sir and ah-num, if, that is, I need to ah-um-er-um-ah, know, you understand,that Kayo would have, that is, agreed to the settlement. You see the position I'm in, ah-er, Mister Greb?'
'You need me to say Kayo agreed to accept this sum of money, so that you can get paid?'
'Well, ah-hum, let me just say this sir; Kayo has no ah-um revealed beneficiaries at this time and if at the time of the settlement he still has none revealed than I believe that you, sir, as the last to hah-um, speak with him could, that is should be the, in fact, beneficiary. What would you say to that Mr. Greb?'
I informed the lawyer that I was not interested and when he pushed me further about testifying and that he could subpoena me, I informed him that I would gladly testify to the truth. When he asked me what the truth was I told him simply what Kayo had told me to say, that he loved him. He appeared to be flabbergasted, to say the least.
'He LOVED me? He said that?'
'Well, actually he wasn't that specific; he said he loved everyone.'
'Everyone?'
I spied some people obviously wishing to speak to me and nodded towards them. The shyster saw the nod and glanced at the people. He suddenly smiled and nodded his head, obviously mulling something over in his mind, then hissed:
'Well sir, I may have to subpoena you, in that case. Of course I will remunerate you. He loved me then, he said that? He loved me! That should do it, then. If he loved me and I can show the court that there are no living beneficiaries, then I can get''''''''.
As the shyster walked away mumbling, two men stepped forward and identified themselves only as Shamrock and The Raven. They wanted me to know that Kayo was a stand-up guy and a better fighter than his record showed, just in case I was writing another piece about him; when I told them that Kayo had left a message for them that he loved them, they exchanged bemused
8
glances, but then they both proffered a handshake and The Raven, a stocky guy with long dark hair, smiled and barked:
'Okay then man, thanks.'
I was about to leave when the last person to speak with me, that I now recollect, accosted me, stepping into my vision obliquely. She was dumpy, had coal black skin, a torn shawl and a battered flower pinned to an equally battered dress. She told me she only knew Kayo by his reputation of being fearless around the neighborhood but that he had saved her child, a small boy of no more than three or four, who was holding onto her leg. She wanted to know if she could give me some money or food but I could see the hardship she was in and waved it away. She asked me if Kayo had died a painless death and when I informed her that he had she seemed to breath easier. Then, I bent down to where her son tried to hide inside her tattered dress. He looked at me suspiciously but his mother rubbed his head and snapped:
'Now Keith, you say hello to the nice man, he knew Kayo too.'
'Your son knew Kayo?'
She nodded at me quizzically and said:
'Oh yes, yes, why Kayo was, well, all the children knew Kayo; they all loved him.'
I looked at the toddler, who sheepishly said:
'I woved Kayo. He'us my frahwen.'
'Well Keith, Kayo gave me a message for you.'
I bent down to his level, as a question mark appeared on the boy' s face, and his eyebrows shot upwards, towards his wrinkling forehead, and he stammered:
'He did? A mawessage? For me? Keef?'
I couldn't help but laugh at his pronunciation, especially of his own name.
'Yup, for you. As a matter of fact he wanted me to especially tell you this message.'
'For we'all Mis'sah?'
'Yup, for real. He said to be SURE to tell Keith that he loved you.'
I saw the boy' s mouth drop open and then a tear rolled down his cheek, as he reached out and hugged me. It was only then that I realized how right Kayo had been. Kids do know more, much more, than us dumb-ass adults.
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