By Eric Bottjer
This one is important. And it hurts. Steve Morrow has departed. You may know the name – Steve was a longtime California boxing judge who became part of the WBC family. And if you actually knew Steve – at any level – today is for processing his loss.
I met Steve in 1989. I moved to Gilroy, California, just out of journalism school, working at the local paper, The Dispatch. The editor put me on the City Hall beat. Big mistake. A fine reporter from the neighboring San Jose Mercury News named Jack Foley routinely kicked my ass (scooped me).
And then a lucky break. The police and courts reporter was departing and the editor, in desperation, tossed me in her place (Perrin Weston, HUGE shoes to fill, and not because her feet were big). Soon, I was kicking Jack’s ass (which I’m kind of proud of, as Jack Foley shared a Pulitzer with fellow Mercury reporters in 1989). And I was using my press badge to sneak into local fights.
One night at a Joe Gagliardi San Jose show, there was a tremendous 4-rounder that ended with fans littering the ring with coins (for the fighters). I noticed a group of guys in the cheap seats who seemed to be aiming their coins at my ringside seat (where I happened to be sitting).
Stupidly fearless, I went to confront them. And there they were – six Gilroy cops, Steve Morrow among them. It was a true meaningful moment (for me). I gained the trust of most of the department (“He’s a good kid. He likes boxing”), and these officers graciously allowed me glimpses into their world, giving me credibility not only with them, but with my journalism peers, as those cops fed me info that allowed me to write some meaningful stories (I knew I was pretty much accepted by the force when the cops there started calling me “Jimmy Olsen” – nicknames were big with them).
Steve was not their leader, but it was he who I became closest to. Steve was a thoroughly decent man who “got” life and what the meaning of life can (and should) be – helping others. He wrote occasional columns for The Dispatch, explaining his job to the 40,000 folks who populated Gilroy. There’s no doubt Steve was a tough guy, but in the many ridealongs I did with Steve and other officers, he never was aggressive with people, and many of those people were not happy to see Steve and his fellow officers. I learned a good officer diffuses disputes and treats everyone the same, regardless of their personal feelings (cops encounter horrid behavior from some folks). Even when I encountered an occasional officer I didn’t care for, Steve humanized them for me. And I know he humanized me to them (cops and reporters have a natural adversarial work relationship).
All that Steve did for me, the most gracious act he performed in my young life was allowing me to help him. I wrote a column for Virgil Thrasher’s excellent trade publication Boxing Update (and it’s sister publication, “Flash”), and Steve asked me how he could do some writing. I introduced him to Virgil and Steve covered boxing for eight years, going to all the Northern California events and producing ringside reports.
In the midst of that, told me he’s like to try judging. I spoke to Dean Lohuis on the commission, who helped Steve enter that world. The first time I saw Steve’s smiling mug on HBO as a ringside judge for a title fight, I felt like a proud younger brother.
I don’t take credit for Steve’s entry into boxing. He would have found his path, even if we never met. But I am so glad we met. I love him so much.
