The Paramount Theater in Abilene offered a live, closed-circuit showing of the heavyweight boxing championship. A rematch between former world champion Sonny Liston and Cassius Clay, a newly declared Muslim who took the name ‘Ali.’
I called John Storey, MD, one of my favorite people. He was the youngest doctor in town. Patients applauded Dr. Storey for his smarts and honest diagnoses. When John could find time, he even crewed for me on my 18-foot sloop.
“Let’s go, John. Fight starts in twenty minutes. I’ll pick you up.”
I let John off in front of the theater while I parked. “John, buy tickets for both of us. I’ll pay you back.” John was third in the ticket line when I entered. “I’ll save you a seat, John.” I pressed on to the ticket taker who knew me well since my TV station ran ads for forthcoming movies.
“Doctor Storey is buying our tickets.” The ticket taker waved me in.
I opened the door. Ali threw the knockout punch at 1 minute 35 seconds into the fight. Liston didn’t get up. Ali never went to a neutral corner. The referee caught up with Ali who was running around the ring, raised his arm.
The Paramount Theater crowd booed. Some yelled “fix.” Some ran to exit—just as Dr. Storey entered and asked, “What happened?”
I answered, “We were robbed. I’ll see the theater gives our money back. But I’m not going to pay ten dollars for this swindle.” And I didn’t.
Fast forward two months. We—Lawyer John Crutchfield, Doctor Storey and Skipper Elam—are driving to Houston to enter the state sailing championships.
Houston Yacht Club required an entrance fee of $100. I previously sent a check for all. Lawyer John paid me $25, and I reminded Doctor John he hadn’t paid me his $25.
“Oh Dick, I wouldn’t pay $25 to drive to Houston and crew on a sailboat.” And John never did.
Image by David Senior from Pixabay
