Opinion/Abbott: Fox Point's George Araujo left more than one legacy

Liz Abbott, a former Journal reporter, lives in Pawtucket.

I passed a sweet park in Providence's Fox Point neighborhood the other day. It was the size of a small house lot, with colorful playground equipment and lots of leafy shade, but that’s not what got my attention. It was its name — the George Araujo Park, according to a bright green and orange sign at the entrance.

When I saw that, I smiled, refreshed by a memory of a lovely encounter I had with George Araujo years ago, an exchange that just may have changed my life.

Most people remember George Araujo as the talented boxer who dominated Providence’s vibrant boxing scene in the late 1940s and 1950s. Born in 1931, he grew up in Fox Point, one of 11 children enmeshed in the neighborhood’s Cape Verdean community, a scrapper whose abundant energy found an outlet in the violent sport of boxing.

After making his professional debut in 1948, George went on a winning streak, nailing his first 14 professional fights by knockout. He fought twice a month, taking on opponents like Buddy Hayes and Teddy “Redtop” Davis, and within a few short years, had an impressive record of 45 wins and one loss.

Of course, a park in Fox Point should be named for George Araujo, I thought on that sun-dappled afternoon, when I discovered the place. By the time he retired from boxing, in 1958, George had amassed a record of 58 wins — 33 of them by knockouts — nine losses and one draw. He then joined the Army and became the boxing coach for the Army Olympic team, a stint that took him around the world.

Local boy makes good. And then some.

But boxing is not how I remember George Araujo. In 1963, he married my brother-in-law’s sister, and in that way, became a part of my extended clan. It was an interracial marriage, unusual for its time. George and Frannie lived in the Bronx with their two children, and one day my family visited them there. It was sometime in the mid to late '60s and, by then, George had turned to painting, creating canvases of power and beauty in an unschooled, primitive style.

I was probably 8 or 9 at the time, a child who loved to draw and paint, but didn’t know there were other people in the universe like me. I especially didn’t know any artists, and there was George, high up in his Co-Op City apartment, creating pictures with thick dabs of gorgeous paint. That day in the Bronx, George showed me where he painted.

Why did he do that? I wonder now. Could he sense my fascination? Or was he just being kind to a child? It doesn’t matter. When I saw his table covered with half-squeezed tubes of paint and a canister holding thick paint brushes, my heart skipped a beat.

People actually do this? I thought. Adults?

George continued to paint, having shows at Providence’s AS220, among other places, until the ravages of boxing caught up with him. He became ill with dementia in the late 1980s, forcing him to put away his brushes for good. But his passion for art lives on … in me!

For I now have a place, a converted garage to be exact, where I joyfully make a mess with paper and paints. It took a long time to get to art – lots of detours along the way. But as I gazed on the lovely park named for George Araujo, I grew more and more convinced that one man’s kindness decades ago helped me find my way.

How else to explain such a vivid memory of more than 50 years ago?

Studio 54 is what I jokingly called my converted garage, but perhaps there’s a better name. How about George’s Place?

This article originally appeared on The Providence Journal: Opinion/Abbott: Fox Point's George Araujo left more than one legacy