The Short Dramatic Life of Sonny Liston

Sonny Liston - photo courtesy of brickcityboxing.com
Sonny Liston - photo courtesy of brickcityboxing.com
In 1962 he won the richest prize in sport. Eight years later, former heavyweight boxing champion Sonny Liston (38) was the victim of a rumoured Mob killing.

Until he came face to face inside the ring with Cassius Clay (afterward Muhammad Ali), Sonny Liston was a boxer who could unnerve his opponents long before the opening bell sounded. Massively-muscled, his bloodless stare exuded an aura of malevolent intent. Although this image of barely contained menace was twice shattered by Ali (in 1964-65), Liston belongs in the upper tier of heavyweight champions, and his overall career record (50 wins in 54 contests, 39 by knock-out) suggests that if Ali had not exploded onto the scene Liston may have dominated the division for the remainder of the 1960s.

Early years

“His life began and ended in a blur,” wrote Nick Tosches in the most searching study of Liston’s mysterious and troubled existence ("The Devil and Sonny Liston"). The son of a tenant farmer, he is said to have been born on May 8, 1932, in St Francis County, Arkansas, to a family numbering at least twenty children. The absence of written records in Arkansas at this time made his date of birth and the true size of the Liston family a matter of speculation. Almost certainly he was born several years before the stated date.

At the age of 13, Liston ran away from home and headed for St Louis, Missouri, to be reunited with his mother, who had separated from his father. From a dirt poor background, and unable to read and write, he quickly became another juvenile crime statistic for the St Louis police department. He took up boxing while serving a sentence in Missouri State Penitentiary for robbery. Paroled in 1952, he was immediately successful in amateur boxing, and turned professional after winning the 1953 National Golden Gloves title. He won thirteen out of his first fourteen fights, but continued to go foul of the law. He was stopped and questioned more than a hundred times and was arrested nineteen times on minor charges. Claiming to be a victim of police victimization, he eventually fled to Philadelphia.

Winning the World Heavyweight title

By the late 1950s, however, Liston emerged as the leading contender for the heavyweight championship of the world. He deployed a strong jab and fierce left hook to lethal effect against ranking opponents such as Cleveland Williams (in 1959) and Zora Folley (1960), both of whom he knocked out. Later in 1960, his points win over Eddie Machen, another fighter of proven ability, showed that he could pace himself against skilful opponents.

His criminal record and rumoured links with organized crime delayed his first crack at the world title, then held by Floyd Patterson. Cus D’Amato, Patterson’s fiercely protective manager, refused to accept Liston’s challenge but reluctantly yielded to pressure from Patterson himself, who was increasingly unsettled by accusations that he was frightened to face Liston. When the two fighters did finally meet at Chicago’s Comiskey Park in September 1962, Liston confirmed D'Amato's worst fears by knocking Patterson out in the first round. To no great surprise, the rematch in July 1963 followed exactly the same script, as Patterson again failed to beat the count in the first round.

The Liston-Ali fights

Yet Liston’s reign as world heavyweight champion was surprisingly brief. Against all expectations, he lost the title to Cassius Clay in a fight of high drama at the Miami Beach Convention Center in February 1964. With both men thought to be level on points, Liston retired at the end of the sixth round, complaining of a shoulder injury. All manner of medical diagnoses were produced to justify Liston’s astonishing capitulation, but neither this or a month-long investigation by Florida’s Attorney General failed to quash rumours of a fix. Tosches wrote: “Why would a man with the most devastating right in boxing, a man impervious to punches, allow an injured left arm to move him to such passive and compliant surrender?” There never was a satisfactory answer, except perhaps that Liston, taunted by Clay’s superior speed and timing, was too ashamed to continue.

The rematch, in May 1965, produced an even more squalid ending when Liston was counted out in the first round after taking a blow which one observer felt ‘would not have inconvenienced an elderly maiden aunt.’ The so-called ‘phantom punch’ – which few in the hall at Lewiston, Maine, saw – provoked howls of outrage on a far greater scale than the Miami Beach fiasco and seemed to vindicate those states which had refused to sanction the rematch because of the suspicions and trouble erupting from the first fight. In a verdict which has stood the test of time, the following day’s New York Times described the ‘halting, unnatural, and awkward amateur choreography of a man who is performing a fall rather than the sundering spontaneity of a man knocked down unawares.’

Final years

Liston continued to fight for another six years, initially in Sweden, with a handful of easy wins over largely mediocre opponents. Still hopeful of forcing his way back into contention for the undisputed world title, he gained another half dozen wins in 1968. But in a bid for the vacant NABF heavyweight title, in December 1969, he was knocked out in the ninth round by Leotis Martin. He fought only once after this defeat.

In December 1970, the body of Charles Sonny Liston was discovered at his Las Vegas home by his wife, Geraldine, when she returned after a week’s absence. The cause of death was given as lung congestion and heart failure, but various irregularities at the scene of his death triggered rumours of foul play. Evidence of heroin overdose perplexed those who knew of Liston’s aversion to needles, and raised the possibility of an underworld killing. Although difficult to prove, there is reason to believe Liston was becoming an extreme irritant to gangsters of his previous acquaintance. His increased dependence on alcohol, loosening his tongue about past shady dealings, lends some weight to this theory.

Liston’s was a short, dramatic life. In truth, a life in the shadow of darkness. Said one of those knew him: ‘I think Sonny died the day he was born.’

Sources:

  • Tosches, N. The Devil and Sonny Liston. New York: Little, Brown, 2000
  • Myler, P. A Century of Boxing Greats. London: Robson Books, 1997

Alan Kinghorn - Alan is a freelance writer and researcher.

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