After prison, a comeback fight

Pictures of professional boxers who trained at the Marian Anderson Recreation Center adorn the walls of the gym at 17th and Fitzwater.

They serve as a backdrop for fighter Simon Carr – his own career frozen as if in a photograph when he went to prison eight years ago.

Carr was just 19 but already an up-and-coming boxer when he shot and killed a 13-year-old male outside his Grays Ferry home. He was convicted of third-degree murder in the case. Now 28, the fighter was released from prison last month.

Carr, who always maintained his actions were in self-defense, returned almost immediately to the gym. He is prepping for a professional run, training five days a week at Anderson.

With a mix of old friends and family members by his side, the boxer plans to make a swift comeback.

"We are trying to groom him into a routine of rigorous training and get him prepared for what’s ahead of him," said the Rev. Elvin Thompson, Carr’s head coach and director of Anderson’s boxing program.

Carr already is enlisting support from some heavy hitters, including promoter Don King. But before any high-profile matches, Thompson is determined to dust any "ring rust" off of his protégé.

"The preparation is more tough than the fight itself," said the coach, who is also the pastor of the Adonai Community Baptist Church in Southwest Philly.

Carr said that after prison life and a tumultuous childhood, he is ready to show his community – and the world – that he is the epitome of endurance.

"I came into this world as a fighter, not as a boxer, a fighter against so many things," he said.

CARR’S MOTHER VIDA heard the devastating news while in labor with Simon in 1977: Her husband Carl exited his car on the Walt Whitman Bridge and jumped off the side, plummeting to his death.

The tragedy sent her spiraling into depression and substance abuse. Vida died of a heart attack when Simon was 5.

The youngster was bumped from one relative’s house to the next, never experiencing a sense of belonging.

At 12, he found some release in boxing.

"Due to the stress and fragmented structure I came from, I had to protect myself. Since I was alone in this world, I learned this at an early age," Carr said. "I didn’t have the necessary vitamins needed to make a person complete."

The fighter’s maternal grandmother, Conswiller Pratt, decided to give Carr a proper home and became his sole caregiver when he was 14.

"If we were to ever see a queen in our lifetime, it would be her," said Carr.

Pratt, a community activist and an original tenant of Tasker Homes, 3301 Moore St., lent her name to the Conswiller B. Pratt Apartments at the refurbished public housing complex known as Greater Grays Ferry Estates.

Carr had made a name for himself as an amateur boxer by age 12, and went on to compile a 40-3 amateur record with 20 knockouts. Early in his career, Carr was given the nickname "One Punch" because of his ability to move with ease around the ring as he socked his opponents with severe jabs.

But in August 1996, his life and career took a tragic turn.

According to reports, Carr said he saw three people – one of whom was carrying a crowbar – enter his old yard at the 2200 block of Dickinson Street. Claiming he feared for his safety, as well that of his family, Carr said he closed his eyes and started shooting, fatally injuring a teenager. Though the boxer was arrested and charged with the killing, he was later exonerated of all charges.

The following year, right before Carr was to make his professional debut, a judge decided to retry the case after prosecutors obtained new evidence. Carr went to trial, was found guilty and was sentenced to seven to 15 years in prison. He spent seven years at the State Correctional Institution at Mahanoy and the remainder at Frackville.

Though labeling the shooting a "tragic occurrence," not a crime, Carr still regrets taking a life.

"I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t feel remorse. This is something I’ve been dealing with," he said. "Whenever there’s a life loss, there has to be a sense of remorse there."

Carr’s morale was beaten early in his sentence until he met a prison guard in need of help. Having heard of Carr’s boxing career and his tribulations, the guard asked him to speak to her son.

"She felt the streets were overtaking him and she didn’t want to lose him like this," he said.

The conversation spurred the guard’s son to go back to school, while helping Carr reconnect with his drive. The incident gave him the strength to dust off his sneakers and whip his body back into shape. He soon began a strict workout regimen.

CARR ALSO FOUND solace in writing letters to Pratt. The 86-year-old grandmother, who penned many notes to Carr, has filled five boxes with his correspondence.

"I told him to keep looking up because God is looking down," said Pratt, who now lives on the 1400 block of Patton Street.

Also yearning to strengthen his mind while in prison, Carr took college-level courses and secured a license in barber management. One of Carr’s most memorable experiences in prison was when he spoke to students from more than 20 high schools and middle schools about the benefits of staying on the straight and narrow.

Over the years, Carr has left behind any ill will toward his prosecutors. However, he still feels he was used as an example to demonstrate a crackdown on crime in Grays Ferry.

With support from Thompson, who trained him before his incarceration, and a handful of assistant coaches, a professional career seems imminent, said Carr, who has enrolled at Temple University to pursue a degree in business management this fall.

"I can see some of the old stuff coming back," said Thompson, who marvels at Carr’s quick ability to internalize his directions. "I’m watching him come around."

Within the next few weeks, "One Punch" will take on the trainers at a boxing camp in Ohio for added practice. He is busy putting the past behind him and focusing on what could still be a knockout career.

"I’m a success in the making," he said. "Despite calamities, you can still achieve. I’m living proof of that."