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SEPTEMBER 2000
Each month we bring you a selection of articles from the current and past issues of BOXING MONTHLY. To buy the magazine, see our subscription or back issues pages, or use our world distribution map to find a news-stand copy. Why not use our Interactive Forum to express your own boxing comments and opinions!
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WILL THE REAL ALEX RAMOS PLEASE STAND UP?
Those of you who like a weird edge to their boxing stories should read on. STEVE FARHOOD relates the curious tale of Alex Ramos, a former middle contender who is currently doing excellent work for the Retired Boxers’ Foundation, but who for much of his adult life has been impersonated by a serial rapist known as Spooky. In short, Ramos’s life has turned into a nightmare through no fault of his own |
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We are who we are, except when we’re not. Wanting to be someone else is
innocent fantasy. Needing to be someone else borders on psychosis. A lengthy prison term isn’t going to change anything: Career criminal
Alberto Lugo will continue to present himself as former middleweight contender
Alex Ramos. But Lugo’s new neighbours, fellow inmates at an as-of-yet
undetermined New York State prison, are less likely to be impressed by his
delusional identity than the women he pursued in the bars and clubs of
Manhattan. In February 1999, Lugo, 39, was arrested and charged with assaulting three
women in separate incidents. On 28 July 2000, he was convicted on 10 counts,
including completed and attempted rape, sodomy, and kidnapping. He faces up to
50 years behind bars. (As we went to press, Lugo’s sentencing had been delayed
because he had just fired his lawyer.) Among those who testified at Lugo’s trial was Ramos, who now lives in Simi
Valley, California. "I was looking at him with fire in my eyes," said
Ramos, also 39. "I was burning holes in the son of a bitch because of what
he had done. But he wouldn’t look back at me, not once." This is a story that grows more bizarre by the chapter. In fact, Lugo has
been passing himself off as Alex Ramos since both were teenagers in the South
Bronx. More than 20 years ago, Ramos confronted Lugo after learning that the
young man known on the street as "Spooky" was using his name to pick
up women. "I beat the shit outta him — real, real bad," recalled
Ramos, whose status as a top-rated amateur and four-time New York Golden Gloves
champion provided neighbourhood celebrity status. "He didn’t say
anything." Lugo has been accused of raping as many as seven women since the early-’80s.
Meanwhile, it is the real Alex Ramos who finds himself struggling to clear his
name. How badly, he can’t help but wonder, has Lugo’s well-publicised hoax
hurt his reputation? And how severely has a well-intended press release,
announcing the arrest of an accused rapist who went by the name of Alex Ramos,
damaged Ramos’s fledgling Retired Boxers Foundation? "Alex may have been a bad-ass in the ring, but he has an enormous
heart," said Jacquie Richardson, the executive director of the RBF. Founded
by Ramos in 1997, the RBF is a non-profit organisation that has aided the likes
of Bobby Chacon, Iran Barkley, Wilfred Benitez, and ironically enough, a
homeless former fighter named Tommy Harrison, who identifies himself as former
contender Bob Satterfield (see sidebar). "He’s really committed to
helping these fighters, and he was depressed and frustrated because he knew this
whole thing would hurt the foundation." Freelance writer Randy Gordon, who has served boxing in several capacities,
recalled incidents separated by 14 years. "In 1983, when I was editor of The Ring," Gordon said, "I
received a phone call from the FBI, who asked me if I knew a fighter named Alex
Ramos. When I asked why, they told me Ramos was wanted for a bank robbery that
had occurred only 90 minutes before in Philadelphia. I told them Ramos wasn’t
their man; we had just finished a photo shoot, and at that very moment, Alex was
sitting at a desk in my office. As I later learned from talking to Alex, it had
to be Lugo who had robbed the bank. "In early 1997, I was working as director of boxing at Foxwoods in
Connecticut when a casino host paged me. Alex Ramos, I was told, was downstairs,
so I went to greet him. He was playing blackjack when I first saw him. It had
been a few years, but I said to myself: ‘That’s not Alex Ramos.’ As I
walked over, I was thinking: ‘Is there another Alex Ramos?’ The guy sees me
and gives me a big hug: ‘Hey, Randy Gordon! It’s me, Alex! Remember, you
were there the night I won my first Golden Gloves title! You seen Shelly [Finkel,
Ramos’s first manager] lately?’ "The guy was real smooth, very sure of himself, walking around with a
big cigar in his hand. What really freaked me out was when the guy asked me
whether I still wore my golden gloves necklace, which had been made from a mold
of Alex’s necklace. The guy knew everything not only about Alex, but about me,
too. He even asked me about my daughter. But I confirmed my suspicions when I
asked him if he remembered the nickname only Alex’s closest friends called him
by. He said he couldn’t remember. When I said it was Poncho, he said: ‘Yeah,
yeah, that’s it, Poncho.’ But the nickname was really Puchito. "After I spent time with him, I called security and told them to watch
every move the guy made. But some people had already given him money and credit
because he was going around telling them he was fighting for the world
middleweight title in six weeks." According to Ramos, Lugo learned the details of the fighter’s life simply
by being attentive. "I knew him from the streets," Ramos recalled.
"He never hung out with the fellas; he was more of a hanger-on. The guys
used to talk about him. He was a weirdo. "The guy was good; he did his homework. When I’d come back from an
international tournament or whatever, I’d hang out at the park by P.S. 40 [a
local school]. I’d play hoops, hang out, listen to music, and talk to
everybody. I was pretty well known, so people asked a lot of questions. I guess
that’s how he found out about me. He listened to the answers." In compiling a professional record of 50-8-2 over a 15-year career, Ramos
failed to realise his potential. Frequently featured on national television,
"The Bronx Bomber" was an exciting puncher who briefly reigned as USBA
middleweight champion. But while others from the Class of 1980 won belts and
earned significant paydays (Mike McCallum, Donald Curry, Bobby Czyz), Ramos
never fought for a world title. His last bout came in 1994, a KO loss to future
world champion Jorge Castro in Argentina. Ramos left New York City in 1984, first relocating in Scottsdale, Arizona,
and then Southern California. He has struggled with substance and alcohol abuse,
but is deeply committed to helping other fighters with his foundation. "The
past is like my ass," he said of his problems. "It’s behind
me." Hopefully, the same can be said of his "shared" experiences with
Alberto Lugo. From Ramos’s perspective, Lugo was initially more of a nuisance and
embarrassment than a serious threat. That changed when Lugo was arrested the
week of the first Lennox Lewis-Evander Holyfield fight. Lugo’s modus operandi rarely varied. He would introduce himself as
middleweight contender Alex Ramos, who was scheduled to fight for "the
title" at Madison Square Garden. After striking up a conversation with a
woman, Lugo would offer her $3,000 to work as a ring-card girl at his next
fight. According to the real Ramos, Lugo also occasionally included a strange
twist. He would tell the woman she resembled his manager, Shelly Finkel, and
that he’d like to take her back to his hotel to introduce her to Finkel. Among
the most successful managers in boxing history, Finkel is a bald, bespectacled
56-year-old male who looks nothing like any woman I’ve ever seen. So brazen was Lugo that just before his arrest, he went to the house of Ramos’s
sister Miriam and introduced himself as Alex Ramos. "She’s a tough
one," said Ramos. "She threw him right out." Unfortunately, not everyone was as unbelieving as Miriam. According to
Assistant District Attorney Martha Bashford, who prosecuted Lugo, the first
detective to interview the impostor thought he was talking to the former
fighter. Lugo even promised tickets to his next fight. Moreover, Lugo’s first
lawyer was initially under the impression that he was representing the real Alex
Ramos. At the time of Lugo’s arrest, the boxing community had congregated in New
York City for Lewis-Holyfield I. In an effort to attract additional potential
witnesses, the police department issued a press release, which led to a story in
the New York Daily News. The lead, which referred to "a convicted rapist
[in 1985] who authorities say poses as a boxer to lure victims", was plain
enough. But for Ramos, the second paragraph was the lowest of blows: "Alex
Ramos, 38, was charged last night with the rape and sodomy of a woman in a
Manhattan hotel. Detectives believe the suspect may have targeted other women,
who have not come forward." In its press release, the New York City Police Department used Ramos’s name
for two reasons. Firstly, they were hoping additional victims, all of whom knew
of Lugo only as "Alex Ramos" would contact them and strengthen the
district attorney’s case. Secondly, Lugo had been arrested as "Alex
Ramos", and as a result, it was acceptable, at least in a legal sense, to
identify him as such. If an imposter had been arrested as "Bill
Clinton", it would have been no different. "I’m sure it exacerbated things, but that’s the name [Lugo]
gave," said Bashford. The press release was amended to refer to the suspect
as "Alberto Lugo, aka Alex Ramos", but the damage had been done.
Unless you had read it carefully, the Daily News article had been confusing. As
a result, a portion of the general public, and worse yet, some in the boxing
community, viewed Ramos in the darkest of lights. "We must’ve gotten 20 phone calls, including two from television
networks," said Richardson. "On TV, they showed Lugo’s picture, but
there was no picture on the radio or in the print media. A lot of people thought
it was the real Alex Ramos who had been arrested. Even Alex’s father called
from New York, upset and worried." The arrest of "Alex Ramos" also had an immediate impact on the RBF.
Ramos and Richardson are aware of at least two companies that were considering
donations. After the story broke, the offers were withdrawn. "A
representative of Merrill Lynch said he had people who were interested, but they
weren’t going to donate to a ‘convicted felon,’" said Richardson. New York-based boxing historian Mike Silver had a similar reaction:
"Alex had been calling me to become involved with the RBF," Silver
said. "Then I heard from someone he had been arrested for rape, and I
wanted nothing to do with him." Maybe there’ll be a happy ending to what Ramos refers to as "the
ugliest thing in my life". Most importantly, Lugo is no longer on the
streets. Secondly, the RBF has recently received a ton of publicity — good
publicity. "Alex always says that God doesn’t make any mistakes," said
Richardson. "This could be divine intervention." Which could ultimately mean a helping hand for a few former fighters, every
one of them as real as Alex Ramos |
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