Who? Bimstein. Morris “Whitey” Bimstein. He was born 116 years ago — January 10, 1897 — and should be remembered with affection and respect by all those who claim the honored title of Boxing Fan.
Not that Whitey was a boxer. Well, he was, but his fondness for hot dogs and his aversion to training put paid to that after some 70 bouts as a bantam and featherweight. But Whitey is indeed enshrined in boxing’s pantheon. He is among the greatest trainers, cornermen, and cutmen in the history of the Sweet Science.
Following a stint in the Navy during World War I, Whitey looked up his former managers, Tom McArdle and Lou Brix, seeking work as a second. By the early 1920s, Whitey’s reputation as cutman was as solidly in place as is Mount Rushmore. Partnering with legendary trainer Ray Arcel from1925 to 1934, “The Siamese Training Twins” were in the corner of such standouts as Benny Leonard, Barney Ross, and Maxie Rosenbloom. Following World War II, Whitey teamed up with another great trainer, Freddie Brown, and continued his magic.
The fighters restored by Whitey’s swabs, salves, and “secret concoction” is a who’s who edged in platinum. He worked with boxers from all divisions, including heavyweights Jack Dempsey, Gene Tunney, Jim Braddock, Rocky Marciano, Ingemar Johansson, and George Chuvalo; middleweights Harry Greb, Mickey Walker, and Rocky Graziano; welters Fritzie Zivic and Billy Graham. And that’s just a taste of the smorgasbord. From the 1920s to the 1960s, Whitey worked the corner of some 50 outstanding boxers, about half of whom were world champions.
An iconic photo of Whitey was taken immediately after the Joe Louis-Tony Galento heavyweight championship bout at Yankee Stadium on June 28, 1939. Following “Two Ton” Tony’s knockdown of “The Brown Bomber” in the third, the champ stopped the New Jersey barman in the fourth. We see Galento seated, defeated, his hairy chest bathed in sweat. Standing to his right is Whitey, a swab dangling from his lips as though a Lucky Strike. His eyes closed, his left hand resting on Galento’s sausage neck, he appears disinterested. He isn’t. His is a tough guy’s sympathy — devoid of sentiment, and the deeper for it.
Whitey’s kindness went beyond his hand upon Galento’s neck — his boxers had wives and children who never went hungry, not if he had anything to say about it, and their Christmas trees were rooted in presents.
“The King of the Minutemen” died on July 13, 1969, at the age of 72. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2006 and into the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame two years later.
But perhaps Whitey’s finest honor came from the pen of the incomparable A.J. Liebling. His The Sweet Science — “The standard by which all boxing writing is measured”, as Sports Illustrated observes — is dedicated to “Whitey [Bimstein], Freddie [Brown], and Charlie [Goldman], my Explainers”.
The obituary written by New York Post columnist Lester Bromberg hits the nail smack dab on its head — Whitey was “second to the best, and second to none”.
