One recent lunchtime, the legendary Leonard “Boogie” Weinglass sat with a handful of old friends and reminisced about his days training to be a serious boxer with the great Baltimore trainer Mack Lewis.
Boogie loves recalling those days. Never mind the millions of dollars he made when he created and ran his 1,473 Merry-Go-Round clothing outlets. Never mind the millions he’s given to charity. Never mind his high school all-star basketball exploits at City College and Forest Park, or the long-shot odds he overcame to beat an impoverished youth.
It’s boxing he loves to talk about, because it reminds him (and his listeners) of days when he was fearless about throwing punches or taking them.
He was pretty much undefeated in a whole bunch of street fights with guys who had it coming for some unfortunate antisemitic remarks they came to regret. And he was 36 years old when he first walked into Mack Lewis’s battered, old gym and started swapping punches with serious amateur and pro boxers.
No question about it, Boogie was tough.
Although, to be fair, it was in the midst of one retelling of his tough guy days when Boogie’s cell phone rang the other day. It was his wife, Gail. Boogie put the phone on speaker so everybody could hear.
“Don’t forget,” said Gail, “at 3 o’clock, you’ve got a pedicure appointment.”
Amid much laughter, about a tough guy getting a little pampering, the moment also seemed to sum up a lifetime’s remarkable journey. It’s been a storybook life for Boogie, who was born precisely 83 years ago today, on Oct. 21, 1941.
It’s been a life reflected in Barry Levinson’s classic 1982 film “Diner” and in numerous profiles in national magazines. And — full disclosure — in the 2022 book, “Boogie: Life on a Merry-Go-Round,” (Apprentice House), that I wrote.
For those who knew him when he was carving out the earliest of his larger-than-life comic dramas, it’s tough thinking of Boogie at 83.
He still spots the nearest women and jokes, “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” the way he did when he was young and single. Back in the day, he’d use the line no matter what month of the year it was.
He still sounds wistful when remembering the close calls when he tried buying the Orioles, or when he tried bringing pro football back to hometown Baltimore after the Colts got away.
And he’s still giving away lots and lots of his money, whether he’s slipping it to old friends a little down on their luck, or needy charities, or total strangers.
But inevitably, he loves talking about the days when he was 36, preposterously old for a guy getting serious about boxing, and beat up some of the toughest welterweights, month after month, at Mack Lewis’ old place.
And now, over lunch the other day, came a memory he’s treasured for years. He was in Las Vegas and bumped into the retired welterweight champion Sugar Ray Leonard.
Leonard took one look at Boogie and said, from a distance of nearly half a century, “Didn’t you used to box at Mack Lewis’ gym?”
“You remember me?” Boogie said.
“Of course,” said Leonard. “For one thing, you were the only white guy in the place. For another, man, you could bring it.”
Boogie’s face lights up recalling the recognition from one of boxing’s all-time greats: man, he could bring it.
He’s done it his whole life, in and out of the boxing ring.
A former Baltimore Sun columnist and WJZ-TV commentator, Michael Olesker is the author of six books, including “Journeys to the Heart of Baltimore” and “Michael Olesker’s Baltimore: If You Live Here, You’re Home.”
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