WEST JORDAN — Gene Fullmer smiles down at the 8-year-old as the boy puts his entire body into the punch. The former world champion doesn't even grunt as the hit lands squarely in the middle of his stomach.
"That's it? That's all you've got?" said the 78-year-old Fullmer. "Come on. You can do better than that."
The boy shakes out his hand and gives it another try with the same result. His brother encourages him to try hitting Don Fullmer, 71, Gene's youngest brother. Again, the effort is huge, but the punch lands with the same thud and lack of reaction from its victim.
"Man, you can punch harder than that," said Don, who retired from professional boxing in 1973.
The boy takes some ribbing from his brother, who was equally unsuccessful in jarring either of the Fullmer brothers, and then they decide to move to where Jay Fullmer, (the middle brother) is instructing youngsters on how to hold their hands while sparring.
With its brick walls and concrete floor, the former firehouse in West Jordan doesn't look much like a sanctuary.
But as home to the Fullmer Brothers Boxing Gym for the last six years, that's exactly what the building is to more than 100 aspiring fighters.
From small boys to young men, the small building bustles with activity four nights a week as boxers train in the very ring where Gene Fullmer sparred after winning his world middleweight championship against Sugar Ray Robinson in 1957.
For many, working out with the Fullmers is the only way they could afford to learn a sport that is well-known for saving boys from the savageness of the streets. At the Fullmers' gym, boxers can train for free. The only cost is a $40 fee charged by the Amateur Boxing Association, and they only pay that if they want to fight in tournaments.
The most tangible legacy of the Fullmer brothers — the gym — is in jeopardy.
For years, the family has donated its own time and knowledge and relied on the generosity of West Jordan city officials, who've allowed the use of buildings rent-free.
Before moving to the former firehouse on 1300 West, officials allowed the Fullmers to use the Sugar Factory. Prior to that, the city allowed them to use a former Mormon church that is now a seniors center. Each time, the Fullmers found themselves moving because the city had need of the facilities that housed the nonprofit gym.
And while city officials acknowledge the value of the service provided by the Fullmers, they once again find themselves in need of the building that houses the boxing gym. This time it is because West Jordan needs to use it as a public works facility.
"The city certainly doesn't want to see them leave," said incoming Mayor Melissa Johnson, who met with the current mayor and Larry Fullmer (Don's son) the week before Christmas to explore ways to save the gym. "We're in the process of looking for some ways to help them relocate.
"The city is now in a position that we need additional space, so do we build a building when we have that one? It's not a good situation for anyone. The city can't afford to build a new building. They can't afford a new building ... so now we have to try and work to help them relocate."
Basically, that means the Fullmers have to find a way to raise enough money to buy a building or apply for community development block grants that will help them pay rent somewhere. The city has even committed to finding property for them if the Fullmers can find a way to build a facility.
It is a daunting task for the three retired brothers and their families, many of whom are peripherally involved in the gym and its tournaments. Despite the challenge — and the five-month deadline — the Fullmers are optimistic about the future of the gym that houses so much of the state's boxing history on make-shift walls.
"We'll find a way to get it done," said Larry Fullmer. "We appreciate what the city has done for us."
For Jay Fullmer, 73, it's important to stay in the city where the three boys grew up boxing.
"It means a whole lot," he said. "To us and these boys."
While the Fullmer family tries to come up with solutions, those who work out at the gym pray for a miracle.
Roberto Tamayo was a confused, broken-hearted teenager when he met Jay Fullmer.
"I was a 15-year-old when they started training me," said Tamayo, now 25. "This is a wonderful gym here. A lot of people like us couldn't afford to go somewhere else."
Tamayo said he felt an instant kinship with Jay Fullmer, who told him he showed promise if he worked hard.
Tamayo said he made the same mistakes a lot of quick-fisted kids make.
"I thought it looked easy," he said, noting he lost his first fight. "It is not easy. One round feels like running two miles. It's a lot of technique, and it makes your brain work. That's kind of the hook. You don't want to go out on the street and fight because now your hands are valuable to you. It takes all the negatives and makes them positive."
Tamayo was introduced to the Fullmers' gym just a few months before his life capsized.
He moved to Utah with his family in the mid-'90s after his dad won the lottery. He drove without a license and had hundreds of dollars in cash in his pocket and was living what he thought was a good life.
But domestic violence was slowly corroding his family.
"It was 1999, and I was on the verge of choosing something good (boxing) or the gang life," he said, admitting with a smile that he was a mama's boy. "I got a call from my sister; she said something tragic had happened. I drove over there with my wife, who was then my girlfriend, and her stepdad."
He saw emergency vehicles, crime scene tape, and he said he "felt hollow inside."
"I knew instantly," he said. "I ran across the field and the police gave me a hug. They told me my dad had killed my mom and then shot himself."
Still reeling from losing his parents, he found out just a few months later that his girlfriend was pregnant.
"I have had a lot of negatives, but I think I've turned them into positives," he said, acknowledging his wife's influence has helped him create a better life for his three boys. "I have also learned a lot about family from the Fullmers. Just watching them, seeing how they are with each other. They look out for each other. A lot of the little pieces of my life are from them."
It's boxing that brings the boys into the gym, but Tamayo said they learn much more than just how to punch.
"Even though you're not the best fighter, they still make you feel like you are," he said. "It's beautiful. I don't think they realize how much they've changed my life."
But that is what is so distressing to the Fullmers. They do understand just what the gym — as modest as it is — means to the boys and men who gather there.
"Parents come in and say, 'He's not interested in basketball or football; he don't want to do nothing but fight,' " said Jay Fullmer, who runs the day-to-day operations. "That's all he looks forward to. You can see that self-esteem they build. It's one sport where you're on your own. You don't have another 10 guys to back you up. It's not cocky, because they know someone could punch them in the nose, but it does build self-esteem."
It also keeps kids from taking up other bad habits, according to both Jay and Roberto.
"Some kids come in with bad habits, drinking or smoking," Jay Fullmer said, noting it's against the rules to use anything like that, even outside the gym. "That's part of the training."
Tamayo said he's trying to do for the younger boys at the gym what Jay Fullmer did for him.
"I tell them if I know they're drinking," he said. "This will keep you from reaching your potential. You have to be in good shape. You have to respect the training."
He said the real magic of the gym is that it offers something unique to each person while creating a sense of pride and community.
"If you were to put it into words," he said, "the gym means tradition; it means hope for less fortunate kids; it's beauty; it's very important to these kids. It's impacted my life more than I can say."
Losing the gym, he said, would be heart-breaking. But he has learned from his decade with the Fullmers that the one thing a champion doesn't do is give up.
"I would train on my own if I have to," he said. "I want to go pro after the Golden Gloves."
The Fullmers have no intention of throwing in the towel. They plan to apply for grants, with the help of the city, as well as attempt fundraising efforts. More than anyone involved, they understand just what is at stake.
For Jose Cuara, it means finding a place that will do for his nephews what the Fullmers' gym has done for 11-year-old Victor and 9-year-old Richard.
"We are just trying to keep them out of trouble," said Jose Cuara, who started taking his nephews to the gym about a year ago. "They used to do a few little bad things at school, but as soon as they started working out at the gym, that's when they started to do better."
It isn't just that working out is free, he said. It is the way the Fullmer family treats the boys.
"We like how they treat the kids," said Jose. "We tried to go to other gyms, but they don't treat them the same. They just treat them good."
He hopes the Fullmers will be able to relocate, and wherever that is, he said, they will follow them.
"We will go wherever they are," he said. "It's a good thing."
The lessons, inside and outside the ring, will stay with the boys, many of whom are now men, long after the final round.
"I feel like there is nothing I cannot conquer now," Tamayo said. "Their dream is to see a world champion come out of their gym. I would love to give them that."
e-mail: adonaldson@desnews.com