Boxers take swing at taproom glory
RIGGINS, Idaho – It’s hardly Caesar’s Palace, but a borrowed boxing ring set up in a backwoods Idaho beer bar was where a 51-year-old desk worker from Spokane wanted one last chance to prove he still had some fight left.
The fighter, Gordon Whitney, joined nearly 50 other boxers from the Inland Northwest at this weekend’s Salmon River Scuffle. Some, like Whitney, had spent weeks training for their three minutes in the ring.
A few others stepped onto the canvas with no formal training. Their preparation involved showing up at the bar and swapping baseball caps for padded headgear and a pair of thick, 16-ounce gloves. Much to the crowd’s amusement, these fighters flailed their arms wildly, as if fending off attacking yellow jackets.
Whitney, a manager at a construction parts company, had fought in his 20s at the semi-pro level and won the regional Tough Man fighting competition in 2000, but he hadn’t been in the ring in four years. A few weeks back, he decided he wanted one more fight while in his 50s, so he began training in his garage before and after work.
The fight was close, with Whitney and his young opponent from Coeur d’Alene exchanging well-aimed, lightning-fast punches, but the ringside judges ultimately ruled Whitney the loser. Nonetheless, he was awarded a trophy for outstanding boxer of the night.
“I wanted a good fight. I got a great fight,” Whitney said moments after leaving the ring. He sat in a chair unwinding tape from his hands and wiping droplets of his opponent’s blood off his chest. Whitney’s two daughters stood by his side.
“There was a lot of blood in that fight,” noted one of the girls, who is in her early teens.
Her younger sister smiled wide and pointed at her dad, who sat nearby huffing, puffing and smiling. “It was all made by him!” she said.
Since it began five years ago, the Salmon River Scuffle has developed a reputation as an unlikely place for some top-notch fighting and raucous fun, said Rick Welliver, a former pro boxer and owner of the Spokane Boxing and Martial Arts Club.
“This is like the wild, wild West,” Welliver said. “There’s not a lot of rules down here.”
For the two nights of fighting, upward of 600 people packed the Salmon River Inn. That’s more than the population of Riggins, located halfway between Coeur d’Alene and Boise.
Most are drawn here to watch jet boat racing on the Salmon River, which flows through town. The racing is part of a national championship circuit and pits the fast, sleek watercraft against tight curves, high canyon winds and rough rapids with hidden boulders.
By day, the roar of the boats echoed through the normally quiet town. After sunset, the river was quiet and the roaring came from the bar.
Welliver brings a contingent of boxers each year to the fights. It’s a fun weekend, he said, and a good place for a fighter to get in the ring. On the first night, one of Welliver’s fighters lost by decision, but his opponent took him out to another watering hole along Main Street for drinks afterward.
“They’re so hospitable here,” Welliver said. “But they’ll still beat you up.”
Bill Bieren and his common-law wife, Norma Jean, own the Salmon River Inn and organize the scuffle. It’s become so popular they’re thinking about adding another fight this summer, he said.
“This fight launches some of these kids. Some have gone pro,” Bieren explained, as he taped the fight list to the door of an outhouse behind the bar shortly before Saturday’s fights. Seconds later, a young, nervous-looking fighter stepped out of the portable toilet. “I’m alright now,” he announced to no one in particular.
About half the boxers are local. Some work as hunting outfitters or construction workers. Many are trained by Kurt Fellom, who once boxed in the military and whose training regimen includes workouts and runs in the deep sandbars along the Salmon River. Fellom also allows his young boxers a chance to spar in his backyard ring.
“I’ve got three ropes made out of garden hose,” he said, smiling.
The arrival of a growing number of fighters from Post Falls, Coeur d’Alene and Spokane has sparked something of a rivalry with the fighters from Riggins, but Bieren insisted small town hospitality remains the rule.
“We treat ‘em all like locals,” he said.
Small-town residents, Bieren added, are uniquely skilled in fighting and remaining friendly. “Locals been doing this for years – they go out to the bars, fight, then get along again the next morning.”
The setting for the fights is a classic Western bar: walls cluttered with antlers, animal pelts, old saddles and smoke-stained Charlie Russell prints. Behind the bar, next to a recent snapshot of a battleship, were bumper stickers, including “Defend Firearms, Defeat Dukakis,” and “Nuke Their Ass and Take Their Gas.” Hanging from the ceiling a few steps from the boxing ring was an old, two-man chain saw with a motor big enough to power a motorcycle.
Welliver, the boxing trainer from Spokane, appeared to be in heaven. Just before the fight, he ordered a beer. As he reached for the plastic cup – no glass bottles on this night – the national anthem began, prompting Welliver to freeze in midgrab and swing his hand over his heart.
“Aw, that’s good! That’s really good!” Welliver shouted near the end of the song, as he pumped his fist high in the air. His Bud Light foamed nearby.
“I love it here,” he bellowed. “The wild, wild West!”
The fights consisted of three, one-minute rounds. The short rounds favor speed and power over fighters who typically rely on endurance, skill or fancy footwork, said Jarrod Fletcher, a 24-year-old construction worker from Spokane, who pummeled a local fighter seconds into the first round with what he later described as a “flying Superman punch.” The move sent the Riggins fighter to the mat with a buckled knee. He was carried out of the ring by medics.
“You have to just give her hell,” Fletcher explained after the fight.
Spokane resident Pete Sheehy, a 41-year-old former taxi driver and aspiring novelist, had no flying punches or other trick moves to deploy against a 23-year-old hunting outfitter from Riggins. Sheehy, who is coached by Welliver, made his fighting debut last year at the Salmon River Scuffle and lost by decision. He wanted one more fight.
This time, the bout ended in a draw, which was good enough for Sheehy.
“I’m never doing that again,” he said, seconds after stepping out of the ring. Sheehy later explained why: “I plan on making a living with my brain for the rest of my life.”