BY THE NUMBERS: RON STANDER By Don Stradley • Illustration by KronkAAArt
fights undefeated to start his career » Beating Shavers was no fluke. Stander was a hungry young boxer at the time and
losses in his last 11 fights The second half of Stander’s career was disastrous. He’d become the division’s trial horse, losing to Ken Norton, Scott LeDoux, Gerrie Coetzee, James Tillis and others. Yet he plowed on, his weight ballooning. Omaha, where he’d once been a favorite, rarely hosted him anymore, so he took his career on the road, fighting in boxing backwaters like Salt Lake City and Milwaukee. “There is something gallant and courageous about the Ron Standers of this world,” wrote columnist Bill Lyon in 1976. “But also, something pathetic and sad. They remind you of Don Quixote, chasing the impossible dream, tilting with windmills of unreality. Only Ron Stander’s windmills hit back. Hard.” As the losses mounted, Stander’s only remaining boast was that he’d never been knocked down in his career, and that if he’d ever been off his feet, it was from being off-balance. “My footwork has never been my best asset,” he said. Stander’s final bout was in 1982, a TKO loss to Otis Bates in Little Rock, Arkansas. The fight ended at 0:31 of the fifth, with Stander on the ropes and hurt, but still on his feet. years old when he changed his life around After he quit the ring, Stander consumption,” as he put it, landed him at Alcoholics Anonymous. Though it had always been a source of humor, Stander’s love of beer was ruining him. At 42, he swore off drinking. Getting sober led to the next phase of Stander’s life. He married again and became a devoted family man. He worked a variety of jobs, everything from carpet layer to car salesman to machinist. He even enjoyed a long stint as a bodyguard in Las Vegas for such stars as Liza Minnelli and Tom Jones. He stayed around boxing, too, working as a referee in the Omaha area. He never lost his sense of fun and maintained his status as a kind of Midwestern cult figure. He was eternally the good-natured slugger who had once made Omaha fans roar. (1944-2022) endured a divorce and some health issues, while his “liquid As anniversaries of the Frazier fight came around, Stander was inevitably called on to reminisce about it. He talked about punches he threw that missed by a half inch and how luck just wasn’t with him that night. He sometimes seemed baffled by his only title shot and the way his career crumbled. “I was probably in kind of a depression, although I hate to use that word,” he said in 1992. “Later on, I just didn’t care. Win, lose or draw.”
defeated some other quality heavyweights, including Thad Spencer, Manuel Ramos and the gigantic Jack O’Halloran. Though Spencer and Ramos were past their primes and O’Halloran was on a losing streak, Stander was doing what young fighters are supposed to do, gaining experience by beating the old warhorses. The 6-foot-6 O’Halloran, a physically imposing Philadelphia fighter who would later work in Hollywood as a film villain, was supposed to present Stander with a proper challenge. At 5-foot-11 and weighing 230, Stander was a short-armed fireplug of a fighter. How would he do against an ogre like O’Halloran? As things turned out, Stander won a 10-round decision. According to the Omaha World-Herald, “Ron beat his man with a wicked body assault which left O’Halloran’s left side and back as red as a hunk of ham.” rounds with Smokin’ Joe Frazier » On May 25, 1972, Stander – a 10-to-1 underdog – challenged heavyweight champion Joe Frazier. The bout was held in Omaha, where Stander had become a bit of a folk hero, and drew nearly 10,000 fans to the Civic Auditorium. Though few outside of his friends and neighbors gave him a chance, Stander was his usual fearless self, happily trading bombs with Frazier during an intense first round. He even wobbled Frazier once or twice. Beyond that round, however, Frazier cut him to pieces. The ringside doctor examined Stander’s bloody face after the fourth and signaled referee Zach Clayton to stop the fight. The Bluffs Butcher had been butchered. He would need 17 stitches, though some sources put the number at 32. “He didn’t back up once,” said Frazier. “He’s a good puncher, a good fighter.” The fight drew the expected criticism, with many in the press chastising Frazier for taking on a relative unknown, while the usual dramatic types demanded the sport be abolished. Still, the most memorable quote about the fight came from Stander’s wife, Darlene: “You don’t enter a Volkswagen at the Indy 500 unless you know a helluva shortcut.” A few years later, Stander said the magnitude of the event, not Frazier, had psyched him out. The potential money and fame that would come with winning the title had played on his mind right up to the opening bell. “I was layin’ awake nights trying to think up things to say,” he said. Stander was never the same. Prior to fighting Frazier, he was 23-1-1. After the loss, he went on what seemed an endless downhill skid.
Providing plenty of thrills in a thrill-packed era, Ron Stander was a heavyweight contender of the 1970s, a rugged character known for the three Bs: brawling, bleeding and beer drinking. The heavy-handed “Bluffs Butcher” of Council Bluffs, Iowa, developed a reputation for taking on anybody. “Hell,” Stander said, “I’d fight any human being and most animals if the price was right.” Here is his story by the numbers.
professional fights » After a brief amateur career, Stander turned pro in 1969, entering one of the most talent- rich decades in heavyweight
history. Not intimidated by the abundance of great heavyweights emerging all around him, he stood in the center of the competition and took his best shot. Unfortunately, he took their best shots, too. By the time he retired, Stander posted a record of 37-21-3, with 28 knockouts. The numbers, however, don’t reflect the essence of Stander. True, he lost often, but he never stood in a ring that he didn’t control for at least part of a contest. If you fought Stander, you could bet he’d nail you good at least once. Along with his face-first style, Stander’s beer- swilling persona was hard to resist. With a floppy haircut and some muttonchop sideburns, Stander looked more like a roadie for Bachman-Turner Overdrive than a boxer. He joked easily, bragging that the only time he was ever knocked down was by a cop with a nightstick, and that he would be better off fighting in an alley than a ring. Yet he never turned down an opponent. He claimed the only time he said no was when a bartender asked if he’d had enough.
rounds to beat Earnie Shavers »
On May 11, 1970, before a lively Omaha fight crowd, a young and fresh Stander scored a fifth-round KO of the always frightening Shavers, who was also at the beginning
of his career. Shavers’ camp made light of their man losing, saying big, bad Earnie broke his right hand early in the fight and was handicapped. “He just panicked,” said Shavers’ manager of the time, Dean Chance. Chance claimed the loss was good for Shavers, as it made him more dedicated. But as Shavers’ reputation grew, Stander could always say he’d knocked the tough guy out. It was a nice calling card.
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