Blue White Illustrated

knockout), with nine losses, 11 draws and 34 no-decisions. When he retired, he was known as the "Uncrowned Middleweight Champion," according to his plaque in International Boxing Hall of Fame, to which he was inducted in 2012. Around college boxing, Houck was called "The Professor of Pugilism" and "The Good Doctor. He frequently gave clinics " around the country to promote boxing and believed it was a science, not a brawl or slugging match. But Houck was more than a boxing expert. He was a true character, with a homespun philosophy and wry sense of humor that made him one of Penn State's most popular coaches among students and townspeople. Houck called everyone "Fred, perhaps " because he couldn't remember names. He had a permanent table at The Corner Room and was there so often that the owner sometimes picked up the check. When that didn't happen Houck, had his own scheme. "When he thought he could get away with it, he would eat three quarters of a meal and then tell the waitress there was a fly in the meat. He then would get a new dinner, Weinstein remembered. " Houck also held court regularly across South Allen Street at Grahams, a newsstand and candy store frequented by nearly every student and person in town. When the patrons decided to create the Graham A.C. [Athletic Club], Houck was elected the first president. "His polysyllabic admonitions (he likes to look up expensive words and use them for a laugh) have become legend at Penn State," stated an article in the program for the 1947 EIBA tournament in State College. "He rules the hot-stove league at the corner candy store, squelching argumentative and boisterous students with a soft warning, 'Now, don't be obstreperous.' For a long time, 'cantankerous' was his favorite word… " Houck carried his eccentric characteristics into Rec Hall where "his mangers, the timekeepers and others at ringside wore tuxedos, Weinstein said. " When gymnastics coach Gene Wettstone, another legendary Nittany Lion coach, set up a series of "circuses" fea- turing his gymnasts as performers, Houck volunteered to be the ringmaster. Dressed in a colorful ringmaster costume including a top hat, Houck was as much of an attraction as Wettstone's trapeze acts, rope climbers, clowns and the circus band. Houck's living arrangements also were unusual. After his first year in State College, his wife and family moved back to his native Lancaster and Houck would go home every weekend except during boxing season. "He hitchhiked, bummed rides from traveling salesmen and took a bus when he had to," Alumni Director Ross Lehman recalled in that June 1985 Town & Gown cover story about Houck. The T&G article also described how Houck usually slept at Rec Hall or a friend's home. "He would sleep anywhere he could find an open bunk," Lehman said. After Houck died, the enthusiasm for collegiate boxing began to subside at the same time that calls for its elimination as varsity program increased because of the alleged cruelty and savage nature of the sport. After the 1954 NCAA tournament was held at Penn State, the university dropped the varsity program, citing public apathy and scheduling difficulties. It continued until 1972 as an intramural program and for the last few decades has been a club sport. In 1960, Wisconsin's defending 165pound champion Charlie Mohr died eight days after sustaining critical injuries at the NCAA tournament in Madison. Twenty-two days later, the school disbanded its varsity boxing team, which had won eight NCAA team championships. That development spurred the NCAA to terminate boxing a few months later. One can only surmise that wherever Leo Houck is now bunking, he still sheds a I few tears about it all.

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