Boxing

Fortune finds way to fame

Jim Wilkes, who earned millions as a lawyer, has received nothing but pleasure from his investment in boxing.

By JOHN C. COTEY
Published August 3, 2005

Life is good for Jim Wilkes, pro bono boxing barrister.

Last week, compliments of his fighters Winky Wright and Jeff Lacy, he sat on a sofa on the soundstage at a 50 Cent concert in Las Vegas. Next to him was actor Gabrielle Union, Bad Boys II star. He and Wright exchanged nearly 40 messages during the concert via their BlackBerries. Wright wanted Wilkes to take a picture of Union with his cell phone and send it.

Wilkes obliged.

A 54-year-old white man who has found fame and fortune in a courtroom, he found it all quite amusing.

"I'm thinking to myself, "What am I doing?' "

No doubt, Wright and Lacy keep him young.

Sometimes, it's with a platinum necklace the fighters bought him with his initials encrusted with diamonds. "The guys decided I needed a little bling," he says.

Other times, it's a shirt, pants or a pair of brown Gucci tennis shoes.

"Jeff got me these for Christmas," Wilkes says proudly, flicking away a white speck.

Wilkes plays the role of adviser to perfection: He shows up for the fights dressed all in black, with a hat and sunglasses and the bling on full display. Saturday, when Lacy takes on Robin Reid at the St. Pete Times Forum, he says he'll go with a black Armani coat jacket and sunglasses.

"I do that for the kids," he said. "It's just for fun."

Wilkes had no idea when he took interest in a young, struggling Lacy that it would lead here, to having dinner with Don King and taking calls from Bob Arum, to being recognized everywhere he goes in Las Vegas, to rubbing elbows with 50 Cent.

But he's glad it did. And so is Dan Birmingham, who trains both fighters.

"At the press conference for Jeff's fight, Jim whispered to me: "You know, this boxing stuff has cost me $2-million,' " Birmingham said. " "And you know what, Dan? It's been worth every penny of it.' "

The gym rattled. A series of booming sounds shot through the building. Travis Halley thought for a second that the walls were going to come down on him.

"I remember walking in there one day, and I heard the whole building shake," he said. "I was like, what the hell is that sound?"

It was Lacy, then a 19-year-old amateur with big dreams. In the back of the gym where he trained on his own, the heavy bag was getting worked over.

Halley can still hear that sound. He was mesmerized by the kid's power. An aspiring boxer himself, Halley introduced himself, and he and Lacy became friends almost immediately.

"I told (my stepdad) about this kid down there at the gym, told him about Jeff," Halley said. "He had been interested in supporting some of these guys at the gym, and I told him ... I'd never seen anyone like Jeff Lacy.

"I said, "Dad, you need to help this kid.' "

Dad was Wilkes, a noted Tampa attorney who had earned Wilkes and McHugh P.A. millions by making nursing homes pay for negligence. He has been so successful, those in the nursing home industry have called him Beelzebub, Satan and Antichrist.

Outside the courtroom, Halley knew he was an easy mark. Wilkes agreed to meet Lacy the next day and soon after hired him to work for his law firm.

In exchange for filing and dropping off pleadings and picking up people at the airport, Wilkes financially backed Lacy, flying him to tournaments and paying for lodging and food.

"I didn't really pay much attention to it," Wilkes said. "I liked him. I thought he was a nice kid; he was unusually nice. But we weren't tight."

That quickly changed.

At the time, Lacy was disillusioned with amateur boxing. After leaving the St. Pete Boxing Club in 1996, he was making $400 a week training fighters while he prepped himself for tournaments at Calta's Gym in Tampa.

But he felt his world crashing in. He questioned his dreams, balancing them against a pro career and not finding any answers.

Then he met Halley and Wilkes, who were eager to take some of the weight off his shoulders by sponsoring him.

Lacy quickly rose through the amateur ranks, able to concentrate on his boxing.

In 1998, Lacy went to Colorado and won the U.S. National Championships, his biggest victory at the time.

"Saturday night, I had just fallen asleep and he calls to tell me he was the new U.S. champ," Wilkes said. "That's when I got up and went to the Internet. ... I read on the page where it said Official Organization of the United States Olympic Committee.

"I said, "Jesus, this kid is truly the best 165-pound fighter in the country.' I didn't believe it. At that time, I just thought he was a good boxer."

Ever since, Wilkes has played a key role in guiding Lacy's career.

When Lacy signed an ill-fated deal with promoter Main Events, Wilkes helped get him out of it. He has done similar work for Wright and is constantly preaching to both about the future, about putting money away, about making sound investments. Boxing is too often a potter's field for spent and used fighters.

"Jim has never taken a dime from either one us," Lacy said. "In fact, he's given us more money than we could ever give back. He's a great guy. You couldn't ask for a better person."

Wilkes said it has been a labor of love, but not an easy one. As both boxers become bigger stars, the job of handling their careers becomes more complicated. He confesses it has taken an unfair amount of time away from his own kids, but he manages to keep it together with his frenetic pace.

But those around Lacy value Wilkes' presence like no other, including the boxer's own father.

"Jim Wilkes, he really looked out for Jeff and still does," Hydra Lacy said. "He helps take care of his financials. A lot of these old lawyers take you for your gold. Jim ain't money hungry like that. He's a good guy."

Wilkes figures to stay involved with boxing two to three more years before tackling the law full force again.

That should be just enough time, he reasons, to cut the cord to his boys now that they have arrived, Wright as one of boxing's best, Lacy as its next generation.

"I never expected them to get famous," Wilkes said. "It's been a lot of fun. It's been so like owning a sports franchise without the aggravation that goes with it. But there's a lot of pain that goes with it, too. They're like my kids. It's hard not to worry about the future."

[Last modified August 3, 2005, 00:36:17]