Fullmer Brothers Boxing

I took a detour on the way home last night, turning south down a rain soaked 13th West Street, passing the ever-present orange barrels that indicate road construction. Just past the small cemetery holding the mortal remains of my dear old friend Robert, I turned right into an old firehouse that has been turned into what can only be described as a sacred place.

I’m old enough to know that sacred places come in a variety of forms – so, if you feel a little squeamish when I tell you that sacred place is Fullmer Brother Boxing you need only hold on while I explain.

For those who do not know, the Fullmer Brothers: Gene, Don, and Jay – are fairly famous icons in Utah. My youngest daughter works at a Gym named after the man who trained Gene Fullmer – a former Middle Weight Champion of the World. The brothers were all world-class boxers. And while Gene is remembered for what he achieved, it is reported that Jay was actually the best of the three before an eye injury curtailed his boxing career when it was just starting.

If you know me well, or read this blog regularly, you also know that my one and only son has caused me more than a little concern since his 13th birthday (he is now 27) and this last summer we had a particularly rough patch.

After Lee’s third trip to an emergency room this summer, I asked him why life was so miserable. We talked about dreams and hopes, and the way life dashes so many of them. We decided life just doesn’t end up being what you thought it was going to be when you were a kid. Lee mentioned always wanting to box, and I ask him why he hadn’t. He mumbled something about Mom’s disapproving, that he just couldn’t find a place, and money, before he slipped back to sleep in his hospital bed.

No sooner had I arrived home that very night than I went on-line to see what I could find. I found a worn website of Fullmer Brothers Boxing in West Jordan, Utah. I sent an email to the “Contact Us” address, asking if they were still in business, outlining Lee’s trouble with the law and alcohol, and his mental state. I asked if their “all-comers” program was for someone like Lee.

The very next day I got a reply from Chet Fullmer, Jay’s son, and the Vice President of USA Boxing. He assured me that Fullmer Brothers was bought and built for young men just like Lee. Chet said Lee should come down anytime, and invited me to come down as see them too.

It was several days before Lee called me – as is so often the case, he had disappeared “off the grid” after being discharged from the hospital and I couldn’t find him. When he called me, I excitedly shared the information I had. He drove right to my home, took the printed off email reply and drove to Fullmer Brothers. And he has been there 3 – 4 nights a week ever since.

In the Engine Bay of the old firehouse, there are rows of heavy-bags in front of an elevated ring. The north walls hold speed-bags. The south walls are covered by old posters, newspaper clippings and pictures

In a blue shirt with a white collar and French cuffs, cuff-links and a carefully knotted striped tie under a dark blue sweater vest I was waaaaay over-dressed. Everyone turned to look when I walked in the side door. I felt out of place. But when Jay learned that I was Lee’s father, he took me to the back office a handed me a Golden Gloves brochure that includes a section called, “Meet Lee.” In that article are quotes from a letter I sent to Chet about the changes in Lee’s life since he met these upbeat men who want to save all the tough young men from prison and bad life choices.

Jay took me around the place while we waited for Lee to arrive, and when he did he went straight to the speed-bag to warm up. We joined him there. He was happy to see me and show me around. In this gym he is a confident, fairly fearless young man with fast hands and the persistence to keep stepping in there.

I met Don, and he told me, “That’s a good kid. We may not have many world champs in here, but we may just keep them out of jail, and that is saying something, isn’t it?” The question was rhetorical, but I answered in the affirmative. He went on to say that they get all kinds, but they are all pretty good kids underneath it all.

And that is why this is a sacred place – it is the way Jay, and Don, and Gene, and their boys (old men in their own right) treat and teach these young men. They tell them they are good kids. They treat them like men. They expect them to be good men. And many of them become what they are expected to become.

Jay told me that often all a young man needs is that one bout that brings him a trophy, and they never return – and never return to their bad habits either. They go on to do something worthwhile with their lives.
While I stood in the corner by the speed-bag watching Lee, first warming up and then moving on to the heavy-bag, I watched the gym swell and recede with between 21 and 35 young men who worked their own routine and received some kind of instruction or tip from the ever-moving Jay or Don.

Jay and Don make the rounds, like a doctor, calling each young man by name, slapping them on the back or on a shoulder. They ask about their lives. They compliment them. They comment on technique. They advise them. They admonish them. Each young man was visibly more confident as Jay or Don moved on from them to another young man. Some were beaming.

The amazing thing – it is all free! The Fullmers bought this place, outfitted it, open it to the public, and staff it from 6 – about 8 PM Monday through Friday - all for free. They teach the young men who frequent the place the five traits that the practice: discipline, nutrition, fitness, integrity and service. They want to turn tough and straying young men into responsible and productive adults as well as competent boxers.

A little before eight, I left Lee back at the heavy bag and headed outside into the rainy night, feeling pretty good about life. I can’t tell you why for sure, but I think it was because Jay and Don just naturally lifted me too.