"After a fight with my own father, who had broken my nose at home prior to me leaving while on the way to a Golden Glove fight, I fought back and became homeless.  That is when I started sleeping  in the gym.

"I would travel to Long Island, New York, and every week I had some kind of fight, always ending them quickly with a KO or a choke.  By the time I was 35 I still had never lost on the street. Only 3 fights out of 42 did I lose in the ring as a young young fighter.

"When Rubin Carter came back from the gym with me to West Orange, where my father's house was, we sat down and all ate together. This was at a time when he was considered a  militant hater of whites, which was either true or untrue, but he liked me and I liked him.  My father took him to the side (which I found out 30 years later) and said I cannot control my son, you are the only one he listens to.  I know he fears no one, but he respects you, so help him please.  And Carter promised my father he would.

"After I lost two fights in the ring no man of any size EVER subdued me, such was my speed, punching power and vicious delivery of short, hard punches.  No man at any weight ever survived my first right hand...Rubin only knocked me down one time while we were sparring.

"When my home was attacked, I laid out over 7 determined men unconscious before I had to shoot another and use the baseball bat to stay alive and keep my children safe.  They still came back and riddled my car and home with bullets."