Several weeks back, we briefly touched upon the stellar boxing career of Attleboro heavyweight, John "Dino" Denis. On that occasion I made a promise to return to the subject in a bit more depth.

It seems these days that I have to keep a written "to-do" list or else things slip my mind. Of course, the only problem then is that I tend to forget where I put the list. That being the case, I figured that I'd better make good on my vow before it finds its way into mental limbo.

Completely apart from the fact that Denis' ring battles were always action-packed and spirited affairs, as his professional record of 46-5-2 might indicate, if you were fortunate enough to be close to the fighters it seemed there was always a riveting or sometimes amusing sidebar story.

Now while Dino was punching his way to an unbeaten record in the amateur ranks, a good number of his fights were held at Jack Witschi's Sports Arena on Route 1 in North Attleboro, a late lamented venue for any number of attractions from the 1940s to the '70s, livening up many a Friday night for area residents. Witschi, the father of my longtime friends (the nonpariel Sylvia Witschi and her brother, Bill), promoted boxing, wrestling and other attractions at the arena which sadly fell victim to fire decades ago.

Upon turning professional, Dino's "hometown fights" were booked for Roseland Ballroom in Taunton, North Providence Sports Arena on Mineral Spring Avenue and the Providence Civic Center. The latter was the scene for many of Denis' more memorable contests.

On one particular evening as the '70s dawned, Dino was fighting atop a card which also featured Tommy Dragon, a popular Rhode Island light heavyweight fighter from Esmond. At the time I knew absolutely nothing about Dragon; my primary reason for being there was, like hundreds of other rabid Attleboro flight fans, to follow our boy Dino.

Over the years since then I have become friends with Mike Zarlenga, a Providence native who was a high school baseball phenom. Mike also was dabbling with amateur boxing, which brought him into Tommy Dragon's orbit. They became friends, and Mike assures me that Dragon was an accomplished street fighter who occasionally forgot himself and employed street tactics in the ring.

A sizable and vocal Rhode Island contingent was there supporting Dragon, just as the Massachusetts throng was in full voice for Dino.

Fighting on the undercard, Dragon squared off against an aging Philadelphia journeyman named Sonny Brown. Brown had kicked around for years, and though he was always game he probably should've hung up the gloves several years before.

In all likelihood Brown's manager sold him to the promoter as "an opponent" for the younger, ascending Dragon. But Sonny apparently had not read the script. Despite Dragon's youth, speed, and superior punching ability, Sonny Brown was using what the experience of all those years in the ring had taught him, and his wily ways appeared to frustrate the younger fighter.

About midway through the fight Brown was dealt a low blow, which may or may not have been accidental. But a minute further into the round Brown was visibly hurt by an outlawed "rabbit punch" that brought catcalls from a crowd consisting in roughly equal measure of Denis fans from Attleboro and Dragon fans from Providence.

Yet it became apparent to all present that Sonny Brown was rising to the occasion and putting on a show for the New England fight fans. Although he undoubtedly knew he would lose the fight, Sonny was fighting with a warrior's heart, valiantly pulling out all the stops in order to "not go gently into that good night." And we roared our approval.

As the fight progressed Dragon increasingly resorted to blatantly illegal back-alley tactics, with the Denis backers screaming in protest. This, in turn, elicited catcalls from the Dragon fans, and when the decision was announced in Dragon's favor the verbal volleys escalated.

By the time Denis entered the ring for his bout, the Rhody fans had identified his backers as the chief source of the earlier catcalls, so they proceeded to boo and hiss each and every move Dino made.

From my seat about 25 rows up I could see things getting pretty tense, so I removed my suit coat and turned to ask the people in the seat behind me if they would hold it. Imagine my surprise when the couple turned out to be Mr. and Mrs. John Denis Sr.!

There was no time for introductions, however. A commotion had broken out at ringside - 10 or 12 men punching and kicking someone on the floor. I instantly recognized one of the cardinal rules of Pier Six brawling: if you don't know any of the guys standing up kicking and punching some poor schnoock on the floor, well, roll up your sleeves and wade in, Bunky, that poor devil is your buddy...

As quickly as we rushed to the defense of what turned out to be Joey Dutra, fans from across the ring were likewise pouring in and throwing punches. Things were pretty hot and hectic for a while, but eventually a semblance of order was restored among all the prone bodies at ringside.

Surveying the scene, I almost laughed out loud. Hundreds of innocent bystanders had sought to escape the melee by climbing into the boxing ring, where they now stood tighter than sardines in a tin, while the 50 rows on each side were virtually empty.

Meanwhile, those still standing outside the ring milled around the Civic Center floor searching for missing teeth, while handkerchiefs stanched the blood from assorted wounds. The unforgettable banner headline in the Providence Journal the next morning read: "Fans steal show from fighters at Civic Center."

Parting thoughts

Condolences to the family of Lillian M.(Bosh) Hanley, especially to her children: Stephen Hanley and wife Darlene, Linda Bolton, Susan Rivard and husband, John, and Debra Lyman and husband Brian. Sympathy also to her brothers, old friends John and George Bosh; her sister Gloria Labonte; and 12 grandchildren and one great grandchild.

Sympathies to the family of Rena Rushlow, particularly her children: Irene Bartley and husband John, and my old friend from the neighborhood (with the sweet jumpshot), David Rushlow, and his wife, Beth (Barrows) Rushlow. Condolences also to three granddaughters, Lynda Bartley, Jeanne Karcis and husband Michael and Diane Taylor and husband, Rick; and to four great-grandchildren and several nieces and nephews.

Condolences to the family of Georgiana (Godfrey) Helides, especially to her son, John Godfrey; her two daughters, Elsie Willis and Kara Tennant; her brother, my friend Edward Godfrey; her sister, Mary Provost; and also four grandchildren.

Sympathy to the family of John Allan Terris, especially his son, Gary H. L. Terris; his brother-in-law and wife, my old friends Gary and Eleanor Boss; and three nephews, Mark, Lenny and Matt Boss.

And finally, condolences to the family of Raymond O. Tondreau, especially to his children, Suzanne St. Cyr and her husband Marc, Raymond Tondreau and his wife Mary, and my friend Bruce Tondreau and his wife Tammy. Sympathy also to his sister, Lucille St. Pierre.

Once again, please be good to one another out there and try to do another a good turn daily. Please always try to remember the less fortunate in your charity, the hungry and the homeless. Bear in mind that united together in cooperation there is nothing we cannot do. Peace...