This is not about some old movie ... an actor playing a fighter ... nothin’ like that ... this one is for a heavyweight of the 1950s ... a forgotten warrior of yesterday ... one that truly epitomized the term “crowd pleaser.”

Tommy “Hurricane” Jackson ... an odd one to be sure ... couldn't be interviewed ... mostly verbalized with himself ... and made no sense at all ... but my oh my how he could scrap. Was tall at 6' 3" ... scaled 195 ... never used the height and reach against smaller foes ... always brought it to the other guy in non-stop fashion.

Tommy complemented his busy style with a rock-solid chin ... and had a reservoir of stamina that was developed over miles of running on the beaches of his Far Rockaway, N.Y. home. He quickly graduated to the big tent of MSG ... would pack the joint ... and then became a contender ... and the purveyors of pugilism found themselves in a proverbial catch-22 setting.

They liked the dinero he brought in ... but quivered at the thought of a heavyweight champion that seemed qualified for residency at any of the Empire State loony bins. Jackson did finally get a title shot ... but at a time the stamina was long gone ... tons of incoming mail had taken its toll ... and Tommy fell in ten candles against defending champ Floyd Patterson.

Fate was no kinder to him come retirement ... following his ring career he first was spotted shining shoes on the sidewalk below the Jamaica elevated 168th Street stop * ... later it was driving a Gypsy cab **... and then the word ... struck down by passing car while polishing his taxi.

The “Hurricane” lingered a bit at Jamaica Hospital in Queens, NY before hearing a final count of ten ... the story never made a big splash in the NY dailies ... but during them final days one sports columnist did remember.

It was sports editor Jack Lang, of the now defunct Long Island Daily Press, that recalled the excitement Jackson brought to each dance ... and he penned a piece about the ol’ Hurricane ... asked fans that he once entertained to dig deep for a few pennies to help the Jackson family with the mounting medical bills.

And why not ... for Tommy surely gave at the office on each and every trip to the big tent of MSG ... to the delight of the paying customers.

Keep the faith guys and gals ... and the hands up and head down.

Semper fi,

George El

*Elevated subway station stop in Jamaica, (Queens), NY

**Gypsy cabs are private cabs that mostly work the ghettos of NYC, areas where the "medallion" or yellow cabs refuse to work.