When he came to America with his mother, Angelo was six years old – passing as a four-year-old. They were among the 1,300 3rd class passengers onboard the Regina d’Italia. As such, they were meant to stay within the ship's bowels throughout the journey, but Angelo’s energy couldn’t be contained and he was frequently found by crewmen scampering around the deck, climbing the ropes and exploring places he wasn’t supposed to be.
Upon arriving in New York in May of 1914, the two made their way to Minnesota to meet with Angelo’s father who had come four years earlier and was working for the railroad.1 By 1920, Angelo had four younger siblings. More were to come. And like many large immigrant families, money was always needed to make ends meet. The family took in a boarder and Angelo, never one for the tediousness of sitting still in a classroom, happily left school to do his part to help support the family. He was twelve.2
His father helped him get a job hauling buckets of water up and down the railroad tracks to quench the thirst of the working men – always with a smile despite the strenuous work in the stifling heat. Perhaps it was because of his sunny disposition that it wasn’t long before some of those men noticed Angelo’s strength and agility. They began teaching him a few basic boxing maneuvers. His natural talent and skills soon became obvious. The neighborhood men took notice, connecting him with the right folks who began to officially train and outfit him, ultimately helping him get a boxing career going.
“Americans loved boxing in the 1920s and '30s. Every immigrant neighborhood had its champion, and boxing was a flag of racial or ethnic pride.”3
Indeed, Angelo’s dark-skinned southern Italian looks fit well with the small population of Italian immigrant boxing fans in East St. Paul, Minnesota. Before he was fifteen, he had fought at least 33 ring battles, most of them knockouts, earning himself the moniker “The Wop with the Wallop”.4 Even though he was good and a favorite among his Italian neighbors, Irish boxers had more fans and stronger followings and consequently, more press coverage, better-matched bouts, and ultimately the opportunity for larger purses. It was just another example of how Italians, especially those from the south, were discriminated against. Given this bias, it’s no surprise that it wasn’t long after the “Wop” article was printed that he started going by “Wildcat Eddie Mason.”
The new pseudonym was likely selected by his promoter to remove any association with his Italian heritage and was how he was officially registered with the National Boxing Association. The name was preferred so much by Angelo himself, that he often went by it outside of the ring. Even his future nieces and nephews called him “Uncle Eddie”.
As an amateur, he had been the flyweight champion of Minnesota and Wisconsin in the amateur class and was now officially represented by Minnesota boxing promoter Murray McLane, boxing all over the upper Midwest in professional featherweight events. Since Angelo was not yet able to drive himself, Murray and others would drive him to various events, often taking back roads and Angelo could run in front of the car. “For training purposes, kid.” More likely for the entertainment of the driver.
As a “slashing, two-fisted boy with a fine record” and a “slam-bang slugger by love and instinct”, Angelo was considered among the top-notch by many regional boxing associations. He was pitted against those with higher expectations and nearly always won. He was 5’8” and his weight fluctuated frequently but he strived to maintain 125 pounds so he could box in the featherweight category. His promoter had high hopes, bragging “he is one of the finest prospects I have ever seen . . . He seems to have everything that a boxer should have – youth, experience, health, courage and he likes the game.”5
It was true: Angelo loved what he was doing. When the gloves were down, he was smiling. He fought hard and took direction from his trainers well. He was a natural. In early 1925, he fought and won his first professional bout in La Crosse, Wisconsin, against Andy Skaff. His commitment to fighting strengthened when his father died in 1928. Angelo was 20, but his mom still had six school-aged children at home. The money he earned was meant to support his brothers and sisters. The promoter took most of it. “That’s the way it is, kid.”
By November of 1928, Wildcat Mason had a total of ninety-four fights and had lost only eight times.6 His fighting strategy was to stay in great condition. If he wasn’t fighting in a match, he was practicing and conditioning himself. In the ring, he set a fast pace. He “pegged away at his opponent’s chin” and kept up a busy, relentless attack. Spectators loved him. By 1930, Wildcat Eddie had fought and won countless matches, both as an amateur and a professional. He was 22. He had a permanent scar on his chin from fighting and pain in his back that lasted a lifetime. The last recorded official fight was in 1933. He won, but in his words, “my legs gave up on me.” So did his promoter.
Angelo didn’t give up on himself though. He found a manual labor job – not that there were other options for an uneducated Southern Italian during the height of the Great Depression. He met a woman who at first sight told his pals he was going to marry. She was drawn to his smile and optimism. They married in 1934. Before ten years had passed, they had four children. His eldest daughter recalls that no matter how trying the job, “he liked it. He whistled in the morning. He never made much money at his job. But he was very happy. He never had a crabby word to say.”7
There is no known complete official record of Angelo’s boxing career. BoxRec – the official record keeper of boxing–has a page dedicated to Wildcat Eddie Mason. It includes 43 bouts. The editors at BoxRec continually add information as they learn it by scouring magazines, old newspapers, and record books. From the hundreds of newspaper mentions from all over the United States and Canada, we know that he boxed much, much more than that. As an older man, Angelo boasted to his daughter that he had boxed in every state in the union. While this can’t be confirmed, we can confidently say that he was mentioned in the newspapers of almost every state.
In the late 40’s, Angelo returned to boxing, this time as a trainer and mentor. Most of the kids he worked with were Italian from his old neighborhood. He volunteered his time at the Christ Community Center, and later Roseville High School, to nurture the boxing skills of the youth. For years, he would escort kids he’d been training to regional Golden Glove matches.
He loved every minute of it and he never made any of them run in front of the car.
"New York Passenger Arrival Lists (Ellis Island), 1892-1924", , FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:JJ3F-3QM : Sun Mar 10 04:53:10 UTC 2024), Entry for Angelo Scalsi and Caterina, 1914.
1920 United States Census, St. Paul Ward 1, Ramsey, Minnesota, digital image. “Angelo Scalze,” Ancestry.com
“Boxers of the Golden Age,” accessed 28 May 2024. PBS https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/fight-boxers-golden-age
“Skaff Throws Mits With Tough Boy in Bout Friday Night” The La Crosse Tribune. La Crosse, WI. 20 Jan, 1925. Tuesday. Page 9.
The Rhinelander Daily News. Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Tuesday, Jan 12, 1926. Page 5.
The Winnipeg Tribune. Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Wednesday, Nov 7, 1928. Page 16.
Patricia (Scalze) Juaire (daughter to Angelo Scalze), in discussion with Kirsi Dahl, May 2024.
What a great story. Just think, all these years he was a famous boxer and I never knew it, or if I did , I just didn’t care. All I knew is that I had a great uncle.
Great story and so unique. I don’t think that I know anyone else with that type of history!! Love your writing.