‘Boom Boom’ gets worthy biography


By Joe Scalzo

scalzo@vindy.com

YOUNGSTOWN

“The basis for Ray’s popularity was obvious. It was his good nature, of course. However, as the town began to cave in on itself, there was a nascent sense that Ray would represent its people. A failing industry would transform Youngstown into a multiracial ghetto, with most of the citizenry unable to escape. But Ray was going places.”

— “The Good Son,” by Mark Kriegel


My introduction to Mark Kriegel came five years ago when I was covering Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini’s de facto successor, Kelly Pavlik, who was getting ready to fight Jermain Taylor for the middleweight title in Atlantic City. I had borrowed Kriegel’s Joe Namath biography from the library and stayed up late at night in the hotel reading, mainly because my two Vindicator co-workers (who shall remain nameless) were playing a fun little game called “Who can snore the loudest?”

That book was terrific. His next book, on Pete Maravich, was terrific. And his latest one, “The Good Son: The Life of Ray ‘Boom Boom’ Mancini,” which comes out nationwide today, is terrific.

At just over 250 pages, it reads more like a long column than an exhaustive opus. Kriegel knows when to add style and flare (which he does in the beginning, keeping you interested in the narrative before Mancini’s boxing career begins) and when to stay out of the way of his exhaustive reporting (which he does when writing about the fateful Duk Koo Kim fight).

By page 18, I had scribbled a note in the margin that Kriegel’s approach reminded me of Elmore Leonard’s 10th rule of writing: “Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.”

Like his Maravich book, this one focuses on the relationship between the main character and his father. Lenny Mancini (formerly Mancino), aka the original “Boom Boom,” was the hell-raising son of a Sicilian immigrant who turned to boxing to satisfy his penchant for violence. He became one of the country’s top-ranked lightweights in large part because of his refusal to take a step back in the ring.

Lenny Mancini’s boxing career effectively ended in 1944 when he took a mortar shell near the German border. Seventeen years later, his second son, Raymond Michael, was born and eventually became “The Good Son,” channeling his father’s fighting ability in the ring while his older brother, Lenny, showed some of the same tendencies outside of it.

From there, Kriegel expertly chronicles both the familiar (Ray’s rise to the lightweight title, the Kim bout and how it affected his life and career) and the unfamiliar (his brother’s death, his post-boxing career). And while Kriegel’s affection for both Mancini and his hometown come through, he doesn’t gloss over the failures of his subject (particularly when it comes to women) or his city. It’s part of what makes Kriegel so good at his craft.

While die-hard Mancini fans will enjoy reliving the high points of his career — and will find plenty of new insights — you don’t need to know anything about “Boom Boom” (or boxing) to enjoy it. The “Good Son” stands on its own as a compelling narrative. I highly recommend it.