Larry Holmes Finally Confronts Don King Over Stolen Money

Larry Holmes is finally confronting Don King over the millions he claims disappeared during his career. Remember when Tim Witherspoon accused Don King of messing him over? Well, it looks like he wasn’t the only one. There are more people. Larry Holmes was born on November 3rd, 1949 in Cuthbert, Georgia and raised in Easton, Pennsylvania, which eventually gave him his boxing nickname, the Easton Assassin.

 He was the fourth of 12 children born to John and Flossie Holmes. Larry dropped out of school in the seventh grade to work at a car wash and later drove a dump truck to help support his family. There was no silver spoon,  no trust fund, no plan B. The only way out of that life was through fists.  Holmes began his professional career in 1973 and served as Muhammad Ali’s sparring partner before rising through the ranks.

 That arrangement, standing across from the most famous athlete on the planet in a training ring, taught Holmes something no amount of gym sessions ever could. He learned how a champion moves, how a champion thinks, and more importantly, he learned he could hang with the best. His lack of a TV-friendly personality or punch  meant that promoter Don King and the TV networks showed no interest in making him a star.

 Instead, he served as a sparring partner for his idol Muhammad Ali, as well as Ali’s great rival Joe Frazier. Holmes was in the room with greatness every day, but nobody saw him as anything more than a body to absorb punishment so the real stars could sharpen their tools. After Don King took over Ali’s camp, he overlooked the talent of Holmes and saw him as nothing more than a good sparring partner.

That’s where this relationship started, not with a handshake between equals, but with King deciding Holmes wasn’t worth his attention. Keep that in mind because that dynamic, King looking down, Holmes looking up, set the tone for everything that followed. Then, King and the ABC network figured they would feed him to Earnie Shavers, the most feared puncher in the sport.

 Shavers hit like a car crash. Nobody expected Holmes to survive, let alone  win, but Holmes won and he won convincingly. His first breakthrough as a serious contender came when he faced Ernie Shavers in March of 1978. Larry won in a lopsided 12-round  unanimous decision. He captured the WBC heavyweight championship by defeating Ken Norton in  1978 in an epic 15-round battle.

 That fight was a war,  15 rounds of two men throwing everything they had at each other and Holmes pulled it out at the end. He was the champion and suddenly Don King, the same man who had dismissed Holmes as a sparring partner, needed him. Now, let’s talk about King. King has been charged with killing two people in incidents 13 years apart.

 In 1954, King shot a man in the back after spotting him trying to rob one of his gambling  houses. This incident was ruled a justifiable homicide. In 1966, King killed again. Sam Garrett worked for King  and ended up owing his employer $600. In the street, King was witnessed stomping and kicking Sam’s head at least three times and others also report having seen him beat Sam with a gun.

 The man’s last words, according to witnesses, were, “I’ll give you the money, Don.” Don King was found guilty for voluntary manslaughter and served 3 years and 11 months until he was pardoned by the governor. He walked out of prison and walked straight into boxing. King’s career highlights include, among multiple other enterprises, promoting the Rumble in the Jungle and the Thrilla in Manila.

  Within a few years, he went from a convicted killer to the most powerful man in the sport. One of the hallmarks of Don King’s career has been the almost constant accusations of corruption. He has been  watched by the FBI and investigated by the IRS, but always seems to come out on top. However, what has turned boxing fans against him the most is his habit of stealing prize money from fighters.

 This is the man Larry Holmes went into business with. A man who had killed over $600. A man who was already under suspicion from federal investigators, and Holmes knew it. But what choice did he have? King controlled heavyweight boxing. If you wanted the biggest fights and the biggest paydays, you went through Don King.

 The money started disappearing early. Not all at once. That would be too obvious. It was done in pieces, in deductions, in fees that appeared on paper, but were never fully explained. And by the time Holmes realized the full scope of what  was happening, the damage was already deep. Larry Holmes has alleged that over the course of his career, King cheated him out of $10 million in fight purses,  including claiming 25% of his purses as a hidden manager. 25%.

 Think about that for a moment. A quarter of everything Holmes earned in the ring. Money generated by his talent, his training, and his willingness  to risk brain damage in front of millions, was siphoned off by a man who never laced up a glove. And the evidence was spread across Holmes’s entire career. Holmes says he received only $150,000 of a contracted $500,000 for his fight with Ken Norton, and $50,000 of $200,000 for facing Earnie Shavers, and claims King cut his purses for bouts with Muhammad Ali,  Randall “Tex” Cobb, and Leon Spinks,

underpaying him $2 million, $700,000,  and $250,000 respectively. That’s not a one-time mistake. That’s not an accounting error. The Ken Norton fight, the one that made Holmes the champion  of the world, the one where he fought 15 brutal rounds and earned the right to call himself the best heavyweight alive, he got $150,000 out of $500,000 for the biggest fight of his life to that point.

 The Ali fight, Holmes earned the right to face his former mentor  in what became one of the most emotionally devastating fights in boxing history. In perhaps his most notable title match, Holmes would collect around  $8 million to face Muhammad Ali. He won the fight, the only stoppage of Ali’s career, but according to Holmes, King shaved $2 million off that purse.

$2 million from a fight where Holmes  had to beat up the man who once gave him equipment when he couldn’t afford his own. Don King finally recognized this  orthodox boxer’s talent when Ali’s prime was coming to an end and King needed a new champion. Holmes would constantly argue with King as financial issues came to hand and how King was not giving him a fair share as his pro career bloomed.

 The arguments were constant, but King had the leverage. He had the TV contracts. He had the relationships with the casinos. He had the network of sanctioning bodies that determined who fought for titles and who didn’t. And then came Gerry Cooney. Larry Holmes versus Gerry Cooney was a heavyweight boxing match that took place on June 11th, 1982  in Las Vegas, Nevada, United States.

 It was one of the most highly anticipated fights  of the early 1980s. By 1982, promoter Don King and manager Dennis Rappaport began one of the most massive and racially toned campaigns in boxing history to raise public interest for a fight between Holmes and Cooney after they were both signed to fight.  An intense promotional tour followed.

Holmes and Cooney attended press conferences at several United States cities. Cooney was shown on the cover of Time magazine. Hollywood stars took an interest in the fight. Holmes said that if Cooney wasn’t white, he would not be getting the same purse as the champion. Both boxers received $10 million for the bout.

 Holmes saw exactly what was happening. King was using race to sell the fight,  and the champion was reduced to a villain in his own story. Boxing tradition dictates that the champion be introduced last, but the challenger Cooney was introduced last, a deliberate public slap in the face. Holmes won the fight by TKO in the 13th round.

 He proved once again he was the best heavyweight on the planet. And then the accounting came in. Holmes sued King over the accounting and auditing for the Gerry Cooney fight, charging that he was underpaid by $2 to $3 million. He’d been promised $10 million. He received substantially less, and when he asked where the rest of his money went, the answers he got weren’t satisfying.

 Holmes later described King’s financial approach with a brutally memorable line. After accepting $100,000 for a $300,000 lawsuit, former heavyweight champion Larry Holmes commented that King looks black, lives white, and thinks green. Larry Holmes was not the only fighter getting shortchanged. What makes the Holmes story so staggering is that it was happening to virtually every fighter Don King touched.

 And understanding how King treated others sheds a harsh light on the system Holmes was trapped inside. King has been involved in many fraud litigation cases with boxers. In 1982, he was sued by Muhammad Ali for underpaying him $1.1 million for a fight with Larry Holmes, the same fight where Holmes claims he was shorted $2 million. King was apparently skimming from both corners simultaneously.

 What King did next to settle that Ali lawsuit remains one of the most unsettling episodes in boxing history. King called in an old friend of Ali, Jeremiah Shabazz, and handed him a suitcase containing $50,000 in cash, and a letter ending Ali’s lawsuit against King. He asked Shahbaz to visit Ali, who was in the hospital due to his failing health, get him to sign the letter, and then give Ali the $50,000.

Ali signed it. The letter even gave King the right to promote any future Ali fights. Shahbaz later regretted helping King. Ali’s lawyer cried when he learned that Ali had ended the lawsuit without telling him. A man owed 1. $1 million signed away his rights for $50,000 while he was in the hospital ailing, unable to think clearly, and King walked away with everything.

 Then there was Tim Witherspoon. Tim Witherspoon was threatened with being blackballed if he did not sign exclusive contracts with King and his stepson Carl. Not permitted to have his own lawyer present, he signed four contracts of servitude. One was an exclusive promotional contract with Don King. Two were managerial contracts with Carl King.

Identical, except one was for show that gave Carl King 33% of Witherspoon’s purses, and the other gave King a 50% share, more than is allowed by many boxing commissions. The fourth contract was completely blank, a blank contract. The audacity of that is breathtaking, and the financial toll on Witherspoon was devastating.

 Witherspoon was promised $150,000 for his fight with Larry Holmes, but received only $52,750. King’s son Carl took 50% of Witherspoon’s purse, illegal under Nevada rules, and the WBC sanctioning fee was also deducted from his purse. That’s less than 18 cents on the dollar for a world championship fight, and Witherspoon wasn’t unique.

 King has promoted some of the most prominent names in boxing, including Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, George Foreman, Larry Holmes, Roberto Duran, Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield, and many others. Many of these boxers sued him for allegedly defrauding them. Seven people have sued Don King. Almost all of them are over King’s sketchy services and stolen money.

 All of the lawsuits were settled out of court, usually for far less money than he was being sued for, and at times with strange contracts being signed by the accusers, which ultimately benefited King more. That was King’s genius, not in promoting fights, but in making sure that even when his fighters fought back legally, they still lost.

 And King operated all of this while maintaining a shield of flamboyant charisma, waving American flags, screaming catchphrases, hiding behind his personality while the numbers told a different story. One charity boxing event he promoted raised $85,000, over $500,000 in today’s money. But the hospital only received $1,500.

  King’s usual cut of 83% of the purse was applied to the charity money, 83% from a charity event for a hospital. This was the ecosystem Holmes operated in. He could see what was happening to Ali, to Witherspoon, to everyone around him, and he had to decide whether to keep playing the game or walk away from the biggest paydays in the sport.

 On November 6th, 1986, 3 days after his 37th birthday, Holmes announced his retirement. He walked away with a record of 48 to 2, two losses to Michael Spinks that many still dispute. He was done  with King. Done with the politics. Done watching money vanish from his accounts. Holmes eventually fired Don King as his manager as Holmes felt cheated financially by King.

 During his successful career, Holmes found his own promoters or sometimes promoted his own fights. That separation was supposed to to permanent, but boxing has a way of pulling fighters back, and King had a way of making offers that were impossible to refuse. Larry was lured back to the ring in 1988 to face Mike Tyson after a $2.

8 million offer from Don King.  Holmes had been retired for over a year. He was 38 years old,  and Don King showed up at his house. Talking on DJ Vlad, Larry Holmes conceded it was King that twisted his arm. My first impression when King offered me the fight was, “You’ve got to be crazy.

 Me fight Mike Tyson?” King responded, “Yeah, you can fight Mike Tyson. You can beat Mike Tyson.” King said, “Here you go.” He slapped $500,000 on Holmes’ hand right in his living room. $500,000.  Holmes responded, “What was I supposed to do? Half a million dollars in cash dropped on your kitchen table by a man you know has cheated you for years.

 The temptation was overwhelming.” Holmes recalls, “Then Don moved the fight up to January. He had given me half the money already, so it’s hard to give the money back once you have it. So I said, the hell with it.  Let’s fight.” King had changed the timeline, cutting Holmes’ preparation short.

 The fight was supposed to be in June. King moved it to January. Holmes was 2 weeks behind in his training. But with $500,000 already spent, he couldn’t walk away. In 1988, he again returned to the ring to take on heavyweight champion Mike Tyson. The referee halted the fight in the fourth round after Holmes had endured three early knockdowns.

 Holmes lost, and then the real damage came, not from Tyson’s fists, but from King’s accountants. Holmes sued King after King deducted a $300,000 finder’s fee from his fight purse against Mike Tyson. A finder’s fee. King found Holmes at Holmes’ own house and charged him $300,000 for the privilege of being found. The fight purse was already structured.

 The deal was already done, but somewhere in the paperwork, a $300,000 deduction appeared under King’s name. Holmes fought this one in court. He filed a lawsuit alleging flagrant and fraudulent behavior by King. After a title bout with Gerry Cooney, Larry Holmes was short-changed some 300K by King. A few years later, while King was managing Michael Jackson’s Victory Tour, Holmes sued King for a flagrant and fraudulent attempt to withhold a large sum of money.

 Holmes would later settle for a paltry 100K. Holmes indicated he had only received $150,000 from a contract which guaranteed him $500,000. Later, Holmes would settle for a payment of $150,000 from Don King, and sign an agreement that said Holmes would no longer say negative things about King in the press. Read that again.

 Holmes didn’t just settle for a fraction of what he was owed. He was required to sign a gag order. He was contractually forbidden from telling the truth about what had been done  to him. That’s the part that separates this from an ordinary business dispute. King didn’t just take the money. He took Holmes’ voice, the one weapon a fighter has outside the ring, the ability to warn others, to tell the public what happened, to hold powerful people accountable.

 King tried to take that, too, and for a while, it worked. Holmes went quiet on King. The lawsuits stopped. The public comments became muted, but the resentment didn’t go away. It just went underground, waiting for the right moment to resurface. The gag order couldn’t last forever. Contracts have limits. Anger doesn’t.

 As the years  passed, and Holmes built his post-boxing life, Larry has hired more than 200 workers through his companies and holdings, which have included a $5 million office complex, $2 million restaurant, $8 million hotel, a nightclub, slot machines,  and more. He became one of the rare ex-fighters who walked away from the sport with real wealth,  not because of Don King, in spite of him.

And Holmes eventually began talking. First in measured  tones, then with the kind of blunt candor that had always defined him. He told interviewers exactly what had happened. He said, “I did a job. He took money, probably more than he should  have. If I was supposed to get $10 million, I was lucky to get $6.5 million.

No  self-pity, no drama, just cold, mathematical facts about the gap between what he earned and what he received.” He told another interviewer plainly, “Don King was good  to me through my years as champion, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. He’s a wheeler-dealer, and you’ve got to be careful. He’s a great con artist.

” That’s the Holmes contradiction distilled  into a few sentences. The acknowledgement that King created enormous paydays while simultaneously stealing from those same paydays.  Holmes also spoke about the broader pattern of exploitation. He said, “When Don King’s fighters lose their titles, they come back  fighting on the undercard for peanuts.

 King owns all the top heavyweights,  and we spar against each other, but we get charged for it, and that comes out of our purses. It was a closed system.” King promoted the fights. King’s son managed the fighters. King’s training camp charged for its use. Every dollar circulated through King’s hands before it reached the fighter, and a piece disappeared at every stop.

 Holmes wasn’t the only one who eventually broke his silence. Mike Tyson was quoted as saying, “He did more bad to black fighters than any white  promoter ever in the history of boxing.” Tyson said in the film Tyson that he was triggered by King’s refusal to admit any wrongdoing. I confronted him. He basically denied it and I attacked him in front of these old decrepit white women.

 In 1998, Tyson sued King for $100  million alleging that the boxing promoter had cheated him out of millions over more than a decade. The lawsuit was later settled out of court with Tyson receiving $14  million and even now, decades later, the lawsuits haven’t stopped coming for King. Just last year, news of a $3 billion legal action appeared in Fortune  with BYD Sports and CEO Cecil Miller suing King and his production company for fraud, defamation, breach of contract and other allegations.

Plaintiffs are seeking damages of $3 billion. Two months later, Sports Illustrated reported on a foreclosure action involving King’s headquarters  where the 93-year-old boxing promoter was named in a $5.35 million foreclosure lawsuit over his headquarters complex. There are two constants to the Don King story:  boxing promotion and lawsuits.

 That sentence could serve as his epitaph. But for Holmes, the confrontation with King wasn’t just about money. It was about dignity. It was about a kid from Eastern Pennsylvania who dropped out of school in seventh grade to wash cars, who got punched in the face for a living, who fought his way to the top of the most brutal sport in the world and then watched his promoter take what he’d earned.

 Holmes didn’t have Ali’s charisma or Tyson’s ferocity in front of a camera. He had something quieter, stubbornness, an unwillingness to let the record stand uncorrected. Holmes summed it up himself, “I don’t owe Don King anything.  I got things with my own sweat and blood.” And he did. Larry Holmes is an American retired boxer who has a net worth of $18 million  not because King made him rich, but because Holmes invested what he managed to keep.

 He took the money King didn’t steal and built businesses,  hired people, and put down roots in the town where he grew up. Holmes was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2008. His remarkable 20 consecutive title defenses ranks second all time among heavyweight champions. Holmes won his first 48 professional bouts.

 Those numbers belong to Holmes and Holmes alone. No promoter can claim them. No deduction can erase them. So, did Larry Holmes finally get justice? Not exactly. The settlements were pennies compared to what was taken. The gag order silenced him for years. King never admitted wrongdoing, but Holmes did something that most of King’s fighters couldn’t.

 He survived the relationship with his wealth, his health, and his reputation intact. He spoke  the truth. He named names, and he built a life that didn’t depend on the man who tried to take  everything from him. The last word belongs to Holmes, as it should. He once looked at the landscape of boxing, the promoters,  the managers, the TV networks, all the people who profit from fighters’ pain, and said something that sums up the whole rotten arrangement  with devastating simplicity. We put our life

on the line to fight for them, put on a show, and these guys take our money. That’s the story. Not of one confrontation, but of a decades-long reckoning between a fighter who earned everything and a promoter who took as much as he could carry.