In California, Finding ‘Fat City’ With the Man Who Wrote It

Xochimilco
Mr Gardner may have not had a story about Xochi's so I’ll make a contribution:

Years ago, college days meant visiting high school friends at Stockton's UOP and being College students, cheap eats mattered.
Xochi's was a mainstay when visiting.

Its a weekday, maybe 2pm, sitting by the window, observing the characters while we eat. The dive across the street empties out, one by one as the day drinkers are lined up, feet spread, hands against the wall. Its a shakedown by Stockton's finest.

Word passes round Xochimilco's that someone got stabbed and they are looking for the weapon. We finish eating and pay the bill, still some commotion across the street. Its a pretty rough part of town.

Getting back to the car, open my door and why there's a bloody kitchen knife right in the gutter, under the car.
Of course we flagged the cops over.

Great to hear Xochi's is still in business.
Some things are not meant to change.

The article really covers Stockton and how it relates to boxing. Living in Stockton it really hits home, thanks joe

What a knockout of a story about a great movie and wonderful book. Fat City is one of the few movies I permanently archive on TiVo. NYT readers who have never seen it, even those who hate boxing, will love this very funny and touching bit of Americana.

I recall reading the novel in galleys in 1969, Farrar Straus one of my employers was the US publisher, and recommending it to the German publisher, Suhrkamp Verlag, for whom I worked as a U.S. literary scout, who turned it down on the basis of a halfway negative Uw Johnson estimate of Gardner's future as a novelist. I happened to know the great German novelist Johnson pretty well & I then spent a few hour with then best friend Frank Conroy whose STOP TIME had been published to deserved acclaim in 1967, Frank was much taken by Gardner's realism. Never did see the film and kept wondering whether Johnson was right that Gardner was a one book author.

Thank you for this extraordinarily intelligent profile. I write and I especially treasured walking through Gardner's scenes and inspirations as a writer does...paying attention and collecting. It's not possible to develop those essential skills on a computer or phone screen.

Schoemer's piece is an excellent profile of Leonard Gardner and a reminder to me of what the fight game used to be. I was unaware of "Fat City," so I ordered a copy immediately. My only criticism of the piece is Schoemer's characterization that "The real Stockton is nice enough." That misses reality by a long shot. Stockton is one of the most dangerous places to live in the country, only behind Oakland in violent crime rate per 1,000 in California--13.31 vs. 16.85 (2014). Even Compton came in at "just" 11.49. Forbes magazine recently rated Stockton as the 8th most dangerous city in the country; Oakland came in #3 behind #1 Detroit. For many people who live in Stockton, every day amounts to a championship fight to stay alive.

I saw "Fat City" in '72 or maybe a bit later and liked the movie a lot, partly because I knew Stockton a little and worked there as a reporter for three days in about 1963. But, what really stuck with me from the movie was Kris Kristofferson's song, "Help Me Make It Through the Night," which he sang at the beginning and end of the movie. Sammi Smith made a hit of his song and perhaps sang it with more feeling than Kristofferson, but his version of his song has stayed with me.

In the 1970s, Leonard and I occasionally attended boxing matches in San Francisco. I was a reporter; my press card got us ringside seats, where Leonard provided nonstop narratives. Upon arrival, boxing people and other fans would leave their seats to shake his hand. Some had a dented nose like his. I knew nothing about the sport, Leonard seemed to know everything about it. His observations of fighters, even before they threw their first punch, led to predictions, often accurate, of the likely outcome. He noted such things as false bravado, an excessively ornate robe, insufficient physical conditioning. Most of all, like his novel, which cannot be praised too highly, he had deep empathy for those in the ring above us. When he saw a boxer becoming discouraged or afraid and losing his will, he announced it aloud in a tone of anguished compassion.

Gardner's empathy is a key to why FAT CITY's characters are unforgettable archetypes. One night after a bout, he and three writers and I piled into his car to travel to a certain bar. One of the passengers revealed that he'd purposely misled another writer whom he disliked, in regard our destination. Leonard replied that that one should never do such a thing, that the little fellow was lonely, struggling to get by and in need of friendship. He immediately changed course and drove to the bar where the fellow was waiting. That empathy and compassion are at the heart of the man and his classic novel.

Nice work Ms. Schoemer. Your piece transported me back and let me feel the ghosts of Mr. Gardner's Stockton. I could smell the musty spaces that were once filled with so many men either desperately clawing to get out or already fallen and done. I'm glad you've kept his Stockton and this Stockton alive.

Then there's the John Huston movie, with screenplay by Gardner. No Rocky bombast that one. The woman who played Tully's girlfriend (Susan Tyrrell) and boozing pal, should have gotten a BSA oscar for that performance, IMHO.

It's an honor for a NYT writer to revisit Fat City's namesake, and to do so with the author made it authentic. As someone who lived in and left the city after high school, and has returned from time to time, it's a compelling place. Like skid row back then, modern day Stockton has its pressures. Crime is constantly talked about whether you're downtown, in a subsidized hotel, midtown, or up in a gated community off the delta. But it's a diverse place full of good food, strong old world California neighborhoods that look after one another, and a diverse population that's comfortable with one another. All that's good about the place is an antivenom to the gang violence that has plagued the city for years; it all just needs to come together.

I grew up in Stockton in the mid fifties. My father owned a catering business which was located in an old fire station. Italian cops came by at lunch time to see what my dad was cooking and stayed to swap stories. Sometimes I would accompany my dad to Skid Row to pick up laborers to wash dishes after a big catering event. These men always smelled of cigarettes and other orders but they clamored to work for my dad as he fed them after their shifts. We would go to buy bread from the Italian bakery and freshly killed chickens from the Chinese meat market all within a mile radius of the boxing clubs. My dad also had the concession at the Stockton Auditorium where he sold beer and peanuts for the evening events. As a kid I was not allowed to watch the fights but I did go to all the roller derby and UOP basketball games. My father was very much a part of the Fat City scene which made Stockton a gritty, tough place if you hung out on the south side. I left for college at eighteen and have always lived elsewhere since. Thank you for taking me back to memories of my childhood.

I came across a wonderful essay about "Fat City" by Denis Johnson (RIP), whose homage to it appears in a collection called Mentors, Muses & Monsters: 30 Writers on People Who Changed Their Lives. It's great to see the Times focus on Gardner and on this book!

Loved this book and reread it almost every year. The seedy underbelly of boxing and life, with many flashes of humor. Thanks for the feature on Gardner, I was always intrigued by his photo on the back of the book.

Does either the writer of this article or of the novel Fat City realize that two of the biggest stars in MMA were proudly born and raised in Stockton? Nick and Mate Diaz are both really big stars in the UFC who are known for their prowess in boxing and even consistently spar with Andre Ward, who's one of the top ten boxers pound for pound. And these two brothers proudly rep the 209 every chance they get!

A great Leonard Gardner novel, and a very well written article by Karen Schoemer. But, the true "Fat City" lies just to the south of Stockton...Fresno, California, whose main airport FAA designation is, you guessed it, FAT. All pilots, both commercial and private, have long referred to their destination when asked as "Fat City." No slight to Mister Gardner intended.

At first reading I was Impressed with the book. Second and third reads reinforced the feeling of gratification and satisfaction. The harsh reality of place and time and character have stayed with me. The movie was an added bonus to the story.

Good hybrid of boxing, memoir and mise-en-scene.

Has me thinking I ought to dig out "Fat City" and read it again. Been a while.

The photos are also excellent. Good eye. Got the blinding midday light just right.

One false note. Near the end. The brief and unnecessary bookend meditation on the essence of fiction, and in particular the use of the word "liminal," which, for this reader, is like nails on a chalkboard. No boxer or writer from the Cannery Row School of Writing would go near it.

Other than that, a fine piece. Thanks.

It doesn't belong in a Gardner didn't attend the Iowa Writers' Workshop.

Karen Schoemer knocks one out of the park. What a lovely, transporting piece about a dignified, unbowed man. And writer. I have no right to plead for it, but how I'd love to read that second novel. Complete it or not, however, Mr. Gardner is already a classic.

Thanks to Ms. Schoemer and the NYT for a fine slice of memory, for bearing quiet witness to the truth of art.

i still have my old trade paper copy. recommended.

I loved that novel, and also a wonderful grim short story by the same author called "Jesus Has Returned to Earth and Preaches Here Twice Daily." Tried to watch the movie but it clashed too sharply with the vision I had of the book. What a remarkable book it was, stunning when it first came out.

I don't remember exactly when the novel first came out,but I do recall how enthralled I was over it's evocative and spare prose; how I too hoped to write something so beautiful. Turns out I was a reader...and not really a writer. An unfulfilled dream I suppose,perhaps like Mr. Gardners second novel. But at least he did it once. Many thanks.