Childhood
Davis grew up in the rough and tough, then-predominantly Jewish Brownsville section of Brooklyn. His father owned a candy store during the 1920s, Prohibition days. Davis' job, as a young boy, was to keep lookout for the police and give the alert to his father to hide bottles of whiskey being sold on the sly.
Davis developed into a tough, street-smart young man, and became well known in a neighborhood that was famed as the home of Murder Incorporated. His two brothers were affiliated with the notorious gang, acting as collectors. However, because of Al's toughness and fierce independence, he was able to steer clear of the temptations of the mobster life and concentrate on his boxing instead. In fact, he was one of the few young men in the neighborhood who was unafraid to stand up to feared local hoodlums like Abe Reles.
His mother called him "Vroomeleh," an affectionate diminutive of his Hebrew name, Avrum (Hebrew for his middle name, Abraham), and he was known to friends and family in his neighborhood as "Vroomy." When Al was a teenager, a boxing promoter convinced him to change his nickname to "Bummy;" the promoter felt that it sounded tougher and would draw a larger crowd. Davis originally objected to his boxing name.
Read more about this topic: Al Davis (boxer)
Famous quotes containing the word childhood:
“Childhood lasts all through life. It returns to animate broad sections of adult life.... Poets will help us to find this living childhood within us, this permanent, durable immobile world.”
—Gaston Bachelard (1884–1962)
“Pleasing illusion: “if my childhood had been the Paradise it should have been, all would now be well.””
—Mason Cooley (b. 1927)
“Indeed, my mother’s beautiful face still shone with youthfulness that night when she so softly held my hands and sought to stop my tears; but, precisely, it seemed to me that this should not have happened, her anger would have saddened me less than this new sweetness that my childhood had never known; it seemed to me that, with a hidden and impious hand, I had just traced the first wrinkle and made appear the first grey hair in her soul.”
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)