In search of Arturo Gatti: Give us a sign

One fine day, boxing fan, enthusiast, and digital historian Eamo Clyne-The Blue Collar Cat from Dublin and I set out on a road-trip to Atlantic City in search of the famous street sign erected to commemorate love and respect for Arturo Gatti.

That sounds like a completely normal thing to do. After all, a drive to Atlantic City for those of us who live only a stone’s throw away up the Garden State Parkway, and who have been to Atlantic City many times - should be able to locate that street sign without much trouble. The key word here is ’should.’

I remembered that only a few months before, I had given finding Arturo’s sign a whirl, while driving into town to attend a boxing event. I had trouble then, attempting to navigate traffic-laden roads while trying to read street signs and taking care that no one ran into the back of my car as I slowed down to read them. I also remembered that I could not locate the sign via my GPS which indicated that the sign was not an actual street location.

There just wasn’t a listing in any search engine. But, now, I had The Blue Collar Cat From Dublin with me, "riding shot-gun" as they used to say in the old west and we were determined to find Arturo’s sign “Fīat jūstitia ruat cælum,"(Latin for ’Though the heavens may fall’).

How were we to know that finding Arturo’s sign in the wilds of Atlantic City would be more like Stanley in search of Livingston? It should have been a piece of cake to find the sign, but it wasn’t. Besides being a huge fan of Arturo’s, and helping to keep Arturo’s legacy alive on his popular and heavily fan based boxing page, Eamo Clyne had a real stake in finding the sign. After all, hadn’t he just announced to his more than 5,000 fans and followers that he was making a trip on that very day for the express purpose of do just that?

Although we’d spoken to a number of people who know Atlantic City very well and even some who have been to the street sign, nowhere along the lines of communication had anyone told us that the sign had been stolen and a new one erected, to an unknown location. We learned that, the hard way, after traversing the boardwalk on one of the hottest and sunniest days of the year, which could only be described as Lawrence of Arabia crossing the desert.

Out of breath, out of stamina and absolutely out of patience (I was operating with a very badly sprained ankle, which tells you how much Arturo Gatti means to me), I caught a glimpse of a little tiny hole in the wall which serves as the Visitor’s Information office. I high-tailed it there as fast as my sprained ankle would allow. It was like a mirage seen by a man dying for water. And what of The Blue Collar Cat?

Well, being over 6 ft tall to my 5 ft, do you think he noticed that I had stopped dead in my tracks and veered off to make an inquiry? I learned that Arturo’s sign had been stolen and a new one installed on the street, somewhere along Pacific Ave. What a relief! Now, at least, we knew that it was at least somewhere in Atlantic City. We had made a pack between us before we left home, "Find Arturo’s Sign or Bust," so giving up at this point was not an option. We followed along Pacific Ave until we came to Boardwalk Hall. Mind you, I had done the women’s prerogative thing and asked the staff of Boardwalk Hall if they knew where the sign was located, but they had no idea. NO IDEA!!! No earthly idea where Arturo’s sign was located, even though it was somewhere right there.

Had Eamo and I been catapulted into an alternative universe? We pulled over during a lull in traffic. Well, not exactly. To tell the truth, I’m not sure if it was the heat or the hunger but I could swear I heard Arturo’s voice telling me that the sign was right here and that we were right next to it. (I didn’t tell Eamo that until we actually saw the sign, or he may not have gotten back in the car with me). Sure enough, we looked up and there it was. As high up as the Crow’s Watch on the mast of a ship. We were at the corner of Pacific and Georgia Ave.

The thing that is the most frustrating isn’t the fact that we had to ultimately rely on ESP to locate the sign, but that far too many people who know Atlantic City like the backs of their hands, far too many people who know boxing in Atlantic City, and far too many people who are in the hospitality/entertainment business who should know where Arturo’s sign is, or for that matter anything important to boxing history is located, simply have no idea that the sign exists.

The real clincher, though, is that there is absolutely no search engine that Eamo Clyne, who is a tremendously sly researcher, or me-and I’m no slouch, could find on the internet. That saddened us. How could Arturo’s career in Atlantic City have faded so much that the sign that commemorates him be impossible to look up? We both hugged the post and took pictures under the sign but, unfortunately, it’s very high up to keep it from thieving hands, and we were unable to make a rubbing of it as a souvenir.

Eamo and I believe that there ought to be a special visitors guide for all things boxing in Atlantic City, and we’d love to create one, but we just don’t think we could endure the rigors it took to ferret out Arturo and realize that finding these hidden gems would be like trying to find lost Atlantis.

At least now, those who wish to find Arturo’s sign can find it and that’s a good thing.