Wednesday, April 16, 2014
By day he was Officer Jim McDermott, keeping the peace in his adopted city of Holyoke, Mass. By night he was Irish Jimmy McDermott, the fighter who returned to Portland once or twice a month to step between the ropes of the boxing ring at the Portland Expo.
These days Jim McDermott, at 71, is lacing them up in a retirement community in Florida, where he still works a heavy bag three times a week.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Jimmy McDermott was a regular at the Portland Expo, where he developed a rivalry with the flamboyant Pete Riccitelli.
He had earned the cheers that echoed off the old arena’s walls by winning and remembering his roots. To the thousands of fight fans who paid $3 or $1.50 for a ticket to the Thursday night fights some 45 years ago, McDermott was the kid off the Scarborough farm who had made something of himself as a man.
“It’s true,” said McDermott. “I’d be nothing without boxing.”
Saturday night, Bob Russo of the Portland Boxing Club will pay tribute to McDermott and dozens of other men who made Portland one of the busiest fight towns on the East Coast. Russo will do so by promoting the first fight card of young pro prospects and amateurs at the Portland Expo in 20 years.
Ryan Kielczewski of Quincy, Mass., is 24 years old, unbeaten in 17 super featherweight fights and in the main event. Current and former Portland Boxing Club members Russell Lamour and Jorge Abiague of Portland, and Jimmy Smith, formerly of Biddeford now living in Rhode Island, are on the undercard, as is Brandon Berry from tiny West Forks Plantation.
McDermott doesn’t know their names, only that their common ground is the desire to move ahead in their lives and have the confidence to do it. McDermott wasn’t a contender for the world light heavyweight title. He was a busy New England fighter whose pro record of 52 wins (31 by knockout), 16 losses and three draws is impressive in any era.
He was a draw for promoter Sam Silverman, especially when he fought Pete Riccitelli of Portland, whose flamboyance played off McDermott’s man-in-the-street persona. They were the local Muhammad Ali-Joe Frazier rivalry and fought five times. McDermott won two of the five.
They weren’t friendly outside the ring and certainly not inside. Riccitelli died almost penniless in December 1997 of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was 54. Russo, who was a young boy running boxing gloves from the ring to the Expo dressing rooms when Riccitelli and McDermott fought, organized a memorial service the following spring.
McDermott, 71, lives in a large retirement community in central Florida called The Villages. He works a heavy bag three times a week. We spoke recently by phone. He sounded well.
He left the Portland area shortly after he married at 16 and fathered a child at 17. “I was the son of Jack McDermott and people didn’t let me forget it. I had to start over somewhere else.”
McDermott said his father was physically abusive, even after his son became a popular fighter. Jack McDermott showed up one night inside his son’s dressing room at the Expo minutes before a big fight. The father slugged him, the punch landing near an eye. Jack McDermott needed to prove he could still beat his son.
“I never touched my father,” said Jim McDermott. “I want you to know that.” That he was telling me something so personal was meant to show what he did with his life.
“I got my GED (general education development diploma) in my 30s. I went to college. I got into local politics (in Massachusetts). I ran for alderman, or city councilor as you would call it. I lost my first two elections by four votes each time.
“I won the next seven. My campaign slogan was simple: “I’ll fight for you, just like I fought for myself.” Powerful words if voters looked at that record.
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