What could a cuddly bear of a granddad who loves to eat cheeseburgers and go to movies with his kids have in common with a young hoodlum who spent years mugging people, stealing their money and spending it on cheap wine?
If you ask heavyweight boxing champ George Foreman, he’ll tell you: The gentle man and the violent youth are the same person.
Foreman, who believes in setting an example through actions more than words, has spent the last 20 years on a quest–not to regain his title, though that’s exactly what he did last November, but to show that anyone can change his life’s course, from one of violence and anger to one of love and patience.
Sitting in his downtown hotel suite before an afternoon of signing his autobiography, “By George” (Villard), he seems smaller than you might expect. His tailored blue suit hides his large girth, and his slow, deliberate walk appears almost pained. But there is no mistaking the hands, the claws of a giant that can envelop almost anyone else’s, or any piece of food that is within reach.
But the longer you are around him, the less you think about his size. The anger that once struck fear into his opponents has been replaced by a desire to put everyone at ease.
A conversation with Foreman is like a running variety show, loaded with corny jokes and medleys of old songs. His demeanor is relaxed, but the eyes always remain intense.
A whole generation of young fans who are used to seeing the friendly smile of old man Foreman selling his favorite foods or car parts, and who are not old enough to remember the Foreman before the famed 1974 fight in Zaire that he lost to Muhammad Ali, may have trouble picturing him as the steely-eyed terminator who seemed to enjoy punishing his opponents. But “By George” doesn’t pull any punches about his shortcomings and wrongdoings of the past.
“This book was important now for the young people who think they are victims of their past, so they can understand that there can be a metamorphosis in their life, too,” says Foreman. “It doesn’t matter what your present situation is, you have to understand that you can change. This book is about that, and it’s about how I found out what made me like that.”
A second chance in Oregon
Foreman, 46, was the fifth of seven children in a Marshall, Texas, family that moved to Houston when George was young. The Foremans had little money, and the children usually went without new clothes or much of George’s favorite substance–meat.
His mother, Nancy, worked two jobs, seven days a week to make ends meat. His father, J.D., was gone much of the time, and spent most of his paycheck from the railroad on alcohol.
Without earning a junior high diploma, George dropped out of school and began a life of petty crime, mugging pedestrians and getting drunk. After seeing a commercial by Jim Brown about getting a second chance at life through the Job Corps, and realizing that he did not want to be a career criminal, George left the only home he had known and took his first plane ride to Oregon for a two-year stint in the Corps.
He began his boxing career there when fellow Corps members grew tired of his beating on them and suggested he take it into the ring. His first attempt, more humbling than successful, taught him a lesson that he uses at the youth center he created in Houston.
“I get the tough guys who come in the center, who are like I was, and I put them up against the smallest guy there who knows how to box,” Foreman says. “The big guy comes out swinging and the little guy doesn’t even hit him, he just moves out of the way, until after a little bit the big guy is out of breath. Then he realizes that the smaller guy could have killed him.
“It changes his whole life, because he realizes that just because you are big and tough doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there tougher and stronger. But they don’t feel that they have to hurt you.”
A more significant lesson–that you can change your life for the better–didn’t come until Foreman’s religious awakening in Puerto Rico in 1976, after a loss to Jimmy Young. In the dressing room after the fight, Foreman began to feel strange. He paced back and forth and begin to get nervous as an overwhelming sensation of death took over his body. As he describes in the book, at the point when he was sure he was going to die, the spirit of God came into his body, changing his life.
“I’ve been married five times, and in love a couple of times, and that comes and goes,” Foreman says. “Once you become acquainted with death, it never leaves you. It makes you realize that you could go at any time and you start to realize what is important.”
His burning desire to regain the title he lost to Ali–a fight that gave him nightmares for two years–was gone. He retired at 27 and began to dedicate his life to God, to the youth of Houston, to his wife and his children.
A champ of a father
Contrary to popular belief, Foreman did not name all seven of his children George Edward Foreman–just the boys. One daughter is named Georgetta. He explains the duplicate names as his way of giving his children assurance that they know who their father is and where they came from.
As a child, Foreman never understood why his older brothers and sister considered him responsible for their parents’ marital problems, and why they teased him with the nickname Mo-head.
It wasn’t until 1976 that Foreman found out that the man he had known as his father was not his biological father. He finally met Leroy Moorehead, his biological father, and the two became friends and stayed that way until Moorehead’s death two years later.
“It’s important for kids not to be called stepbrother or stepsister, or to be treated like outsiders,” Foreman says. “They need to feel like they belong. And in the end, everyone is just a brother or sister anyway.”
Foreman’s first four children were born to different women, but through the years he has gained either custody or frequent visitation with all of them, and he says his relationship with all of the mothers is good now.
“I’m becoming a better and better father every day,” Foreman says. “I went with my kids to see that movie `Casper’ the other day and I was in a good mood and I asked my second youngest boy, who we call Big Wheel, to give me a kiss. He said, `No way!’ I asked him to please give me a kiss and a hug. He said, “I’ll give you one hug, but no kiss.’ Then my youngest boy, Red, said, `I’ll give you a kiss, Dad.’
“I learned I had to ease up on Big Wheel, not to tease him so much. But I want to be able to get a kiss and a hug from all of my children.”
As for being a five-time husband, Foreman says he has learned the only way to make it work is to give and take.
“My wife, Joan, and I have learned that she’s often totally right and just because I’m her husband doesn’t mean that I’m right and I can’t always do it `my way,’ ” as he breaks into the Sinatra tune, off-key but with vigor and without any embarrassment.
A different kind of tough
In his book Foreman writes about several moments when he has cried, and explains the importance for young people to know that a strong person can show emotion.
“I went to see my daughter Natalie sing in the choir recently, and she was the soloist,” Foreman says. “And the spotlight came on her and instead of backing away from it, she got closer into the light.
“And when she was done she put the microphone down and waited for the applause and I realized that this was her life and it wasn’t about me, and that she was making it for herself, and I just broke down and cried.”
As Foreman leaves the hotel, pedestrians holler “Champ,” and “Beat Tyson.” He enjoys greeting the public and signing autographs. After years of being one of the most despised boxers, he is now always the crowd’s favorite.
“I tried so hard to be loved the first time around, and this time I try to make sure that I let people know that I love and appreciate them.”
Foreman also admits that his faith has made it harder to win back and keep his title because he decided it was crucial to try not to hurt anyone excessively–the main objective of boxing.
“I met a man about five years after l was out of boxing,” Foreman says, looking out on the Chicago River from the back of the limousine. “I was at a tent revival meeting on an lndian reservation somewhere in Canada. And this man with a kid comes up and says, `Tell him that I fought you.’
Foreman recognized the man as a former opponent.
“I asked how he was doing,” Foreman says. “and he was fine and I was glad to see that I didn’t do any permanent damage and that his kid was proud that he fought me.”
The first autograph seeker at the Loop Kroch’s & Brentano’s is the first of four people to present a sack of three McDonald’s cheeseburgers, Foreman’s favorite food. He will eat none of them. During trips, when he cannot work out, he prefers a vegetable plate.
“But I can smell them,” he jokes.
One burly man in line introduces himself as a former opponent, knocked out in the first round a few years ago by the champ.
“See what I mean?” Foreman asks, smiling, when he sees that the man is fine and holds no grudge against him.
During the autograph signing, Foreman continues to deflect boxing questions the way he does strong jabs. Yes, he may fight again, maybe Mike Tyson, the former champ who recently got out of prison, and, no, he has no plans to fight after this year.
“The boxing thing is so minute,” says Foreman, who writes that he came back to raise money for his youth center and church, and has earned millions since then. “I climbed the hill and I became heavyweight champion of the world again. But the last time I got in the ring I thought, `What I am even doing here?’
“I had a vision in 1979 that I would write this book and the vision told me if I worked hard after the book came out that everyone would get a chance to read it and to learn from it.”
And by George, he is determined to make his dream come true.
