George Chuvalo: My Last Farewell

It is with a deeply saddened heart that I find myself writing my Last Farewell to super star Canadian boxing legend George Chuvalo.

George Chuvalo--never knocked off his feet in the boxing ring even by the great Muhammad Ali--is a Canadian legend.

Indeed, Muhammad Ali said at the time of his first fight with George Chuvalo that “he’s the toughest guy I ever fought”.

George quipped numerous times when asked about the fight, “Who won? I went dancing with my wife. He went to the hospital.”

Thank God that the news of his death at age 89 came my way from a close personal friend’s late night text, and not from a hypocritical mainstream media who allegedly tried to smear him as a ‘toxic male’—all for being a loving husband, father and a largely unsung true Canadian hero.

George Chuvalo, along with ‘Hockey Night In Canada’ Don Cherry and Toronto Maple Leaf irrepressible, hockey player Eddie Shack were sports writers for Toronto Free Press (TFP) the forerunner of Canada Free Press (CFP). Of all of our writers, George was the only one who sent this editor running for her dictionary. That’s how erudite--far more erudite than the far left media who tried to present him as a dumb boxer—he truly was.

Little did I know how George was to become a major part of my life when a group of young males, prompted by my friend, reporter Mike Woloschuk invited me to their meeting with the boxing champ back in the early ‘90s.

George came to the meeting with his much beloved wife, Lynn who was visibly suffering from the ravages of alcoholism. During the interview, Lynn appeared restless, and after a couple of hours, called out to her husband that she wanted to go home.

When the young interviewers registered disappointment that he was calling an end to the meeting, I will never forget what George told them: “This woman is my beloved wife, and when my wife tells me it is time to go home, IT. IS. TIME. TO. GO HOME,” and both husband and wife departed the scene with dignity.

Witnessing this, my estimation of George Chuvalo shot up sky high and was to never leave me.

George, who always did his utmost to help a struggling Toronto Free Press, was in fact delivering TFP when news broke of the death of his son, George Lee from a drug overdose. His wife, Lynn died only four days later, clutching her family Bible and a lock of her son’s hair.

After Lynn’s death, George used TFP editor’s sofa as his main place to grieve. We kept the door to the editor’s office shut to provide him privacy.

Thankfully, there are some poignant happy stories in the life of George Chuvalo.

At this time, George had a loyal personal chauffeur by the name of Marvin Elkind, whom I affectionately nicknamed “Starvin’ Marvin.”

Back in the days when Chuvalo was writing a column for Toronto Free Press, our offices were filled with Damon Runyon like characters, not the least of whom was Marvin. He earned the nickname "Starvin’ Marvin" for the justice he did to the buffet table during office parties.(Canada Free Press, June 24, 2004)

Elkind, back in those days, chauffeured Chuvalo around town. Known for his great girth, he didn’t need livery. He came into my life at the time of the death of Chuvalo’s wife, Lynn.

Knowing that Chuvalo was hurting financially and had only recently buried son George Jr. when Lynn died, I woke up in the middle of the night wondering how George was ever going to come up with the money for Lynn’s funeral. At 3 a.m., I called Marvin, who had once given me his card. "Good question," he answered me in his trademark laconic style. 

The following morning, my former boss, Toronto Sun columnist Peter Worthington, and I began hitting the phones trying to raise money for Lynn’s funeral—necessitated by the funeral parlor’s threats to remove her body having never been paid for George Lee’s funeral.

After a full day on the phones for financial help for George coming up empty, I was about to head to my office to assess the damage there of all our work being for naught, when I received an unexpected telephone call. It was a male caller, who started by asking how much money we had raised in our all day efforts. When I ruefully confessed “not a penny,” he told me. “Don’t worry, you will soon be receiving notice from the funeral parlor that George’s accounts have been paid in full.”

I asked him who he was. He somewhat reluctantly told me he was Billy Ballard. When I thanked him, he told me, “No need to thank me, as I am doing this for my late father Harold Ballard, who loved George Chuvalo.”

I was able to meet Billy in person at Lynn’s sad funeral.

Another prime example of the kind of person George Chuvalo was in real life:

One day a few months after George Jr.’s and Lynn’s deaths, George arrived at our office asking me to go down to the street level to greet Marvin in his car, held there because of his mobility issues.

As George and I were standing there talking to him on Elizabeth Street, a car came careening around the corner with three teenage occupants. One jumped out of the car, yelling back to the others, "It really is George Chuvalo. It was Christmas time and the teen had just bought a sports-related book for his father. He asked Chuvalo to sign the book.

"What’s your dad’s name, kid?" Chuvalo asked.

"Michael," the teen answered.

"Dear Michael, you have the most wonderful son," the champ wrote on the book’s flyleaf.

The teenager, who had teared up, thanked George profusely.

Even in profound grief, Chuvalo was thoughtful of others, particularly young people.

The many heartbreaking tragedies that marked George Chuvalo's personal life would break a lesser man, but George continued on speaking to countless high school students, warning them about the deadly dangers of drugs.

Today on this sad day, myself and innumerable others, know down at heart that George Chuvalo will continue to live on in human memory.

Even though we are destined to experience the hypocrisy of a mainstream media mourning his passing, I take heart in knowing that George is now where he wants to be: in the Afterlife with his beloved wife Lynn and sons Jesse, George Lee and Stephan.

Rest in Peace as the hero you are, dear soul George Chuvalo.