My last days at MGM were like the fall of the Roman Empire in fast motion.

Los Angeles was an impression of failure, of disappointment, of despair, and of oddly makeshift lives. This is California? I thought.

High-level, big-deal publicity has a way of getting old for me, but what never fails to thrill me is when I make personal appearances.

In those days, boxing was very glamorous and romantic. You listened to fights on the radio, and a good announcer made it seem like a contest between gladiators.

Faced with the choice of enduring a bad toothache or going to the dentist, we generally tried to ride out the bad tooth.

I hate fishing, and I can't imagine why anyone would want to hike when you can get in the car and drive.

Publicity gets more than a little tiring. You want it, you need it, you crave it, and you're scared as hell when it stops.