Big Bubba Beasley

When people write about their personal history, they tend to write about all the positive memories and conveniently leave out the bad stuff. I am no different. If you think I am going to tell you about the shameful stuff I did, well, I would like to sell you the moon.

So this story is going to make me look good. I'm ridiculously proud of it.

During Basic Training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, I was made a squad leader. I'm not sure of the criteria they used to select "squad leaders." Maybe they liked the fact that I was 6'2" tall; or maybe because I had been selected to qualify for Officer's Candidate School. I don't know. Whatever . . .

I also became a squad leader in the "Honor Guard." This meant I wore a chrome helmet and marched just behind the flags in my spit and polish platoon All this didn't mean I was promoted in any way. I was still a private E-1. Inaide the bottom of our pantslegs, we wore chrome "chains" at the point where our pants "bloused" just above our boots. They couldn't be seen but they made the pants look really cool.

On Saturdays, for those of us who couldn't go on a weekend pass, the company, which in my case was "Dog" company. There were four companies in each regiment, and four platoons in each company. Each platoon had four files of nine men each. My position was "anchor," which meant that I was the guy at the front left spot who marched right behind the guidon.

Well, enough military BS.

One particular Saturday when nobody in the whole company had a weekend pass, it was decided that the company would have a boxing match. Since there were four platoons, each platoon arranged themselves in the four sides of a boxing ring. So they had two or three matches in which everyone participated with cheers, arms and fists thrust into the air.

After this they all shouted "Big Bubba!" "Big Bubba," "Big Bubba." Big Bubba Beasley was a black man who stood about six feet four and weighed close to 300 lbs. So Big Bubba stepped forward and they strapped the 18 oz. gloves on his massive hands -- hands that were appended to arms the size of telephone poles. Big Bubba stepped into the "ring," and the sergeant shouted, "Who is going to fight Big Bubba?"

Silence.

After several minutes of feet shuffling and eyes turned toward the ground, somebody said, "Aw, come on! Sum' body have the gonads to take on Big Bubba!"

I weighed, for all my height, about 163 lbs. The man was almost twice my weight. This was December, 1954, and I had just turned 18. I couldn't handle it that no one would fight this guy, so I foolishly stepped forward. Oh, sure I knew how to box. I had taken lessons at the YMCA Camp Rabun in the Georgia mountains. So, I strapped on the gloves. I didn’t know what I was getting into.

The sergeant blew his whistle to start the round. I bobbed and weaved while the big man just stood there holding up his guard. I decided to attack. I stepped in, faked a my left hook and connected with a right. The big guy was surprised. I kept it up for a bit more when suddenly a mammoth shaped boxing glove penetrated my polished boxing guard as though it weren't there. Inside that glove was a big, magnificent fist.

I think I left the ground. In any case, I found myself flat on my back, shaking my head trying to rid myself of the vertigo and stars. One punch from Big Bubba and I was dead meat.

I finally got to my feet and said, "No mas." No more. They took the gloves off and the boxing matches were over. I headed back to the barracks and made my way to my special "squad leader" room and stretched out on my bunk. I needed to get my mojo back.

After laying there for several minutes, there was a knock on my door. I looked up and there stood Big Bubba Beasley.

"Hey man!" said I, and held out my hand for a shake. I definitely wanted to get on his good side.

"You a pretty good boxer," he ventured.

"Maybe not good enough," I replied.

"Well," he continued, "I just wanted to drop by and congratulate you on your courage."

A tsunami of embarrassment hit me like flushing a goldfish down a toilet.

"You were the only man in the whole company who would stand up against me, and I'm a whole lot bigger'n you."

I guess I grinned and said something moronic.

"I just want you to know that I respect you," said he.

Again, I was speechless. I nodded my head and mumbled, "thank you."

"Well, guess I be gittin' back." And with that, he turned and left.

That was 65 years ago. Funny how you remember things.