Once the No. 9 middleweight boxer in America, Paul Thorn has since become a noted singer-songwriter

Music: Gloves traded for guitars

By Patrick S. Pemberton

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PAUL THORN

8 p. m. Saturday

Downtown Brew, 1119 Garden St., San Luis Obispo

$15 at the door, $12 in advance at Boo Boo Records

541-1843 or www.downtownbrew.com

Look closely when Paul Thorn sings and you might see a scar that boxing legend Roberto Duran gave him 20 years ago.

Thorn, now a singer-songwriter who has been covered by Toby Keith and has opened for Sting, Jeff Beck and Mark Knopfler, was a 23-year-old factory worker and part-time boxer when he took on Duran in 1988.

Although he was ranked the No. 9 middleweight in America (he was 13-2 at the time), Thorn couldn’t defeat Duran, who entered with an 83-9 record. But he did last six rounds before the fight was stopped because of a bad cut on Thorn’s lip.

“I’ve got a picture on my wall at the house of him hitting me on the jaw with a straight right, and I hang it there with pride,” said Thorn, who performs at Downtown Brew Saturday. “Because, no, I didn’t win, but I’ll tell you what—I was there.”

Born the son of a strict Pentecostal preacher in Tupelo, Miss., Thorn has led a movie-worthy life.

As a singer, he combines blues, gospel and country, in the Lyle Lovett tradition, with stories about his life. His song “It’s a Great Day to Whup Somebody’s Ass” is an anthem for the down-on- your-luck working stiff. His new album, “A Long Way From Tupelo,” offers more of his Southern wit —which was in full swing when he spoke to The Tribune by phone recently.

How did you react when you learned you were going to be fighting Roberto Duran?

I reacted the same way I reacted every time I fought: I was afraid. I never went in the ring once where I wasn’t afraid. And I haven’t yet met a fighter who wasn’t deep down afraid.

That must have been bizarre standing across from Roberto Duran in the ring.

It was. Being the No. 9 middleweight in the United States is not the same as being one of the top five fighters who ever lived. The question I always get asked is, “Did he hit hard?” Well, the obvious answer to that is, “Yeah, he hit hard.” But I fought lots of guys who hit hard. That really wasn’t what made him special. What made him special was how elusive he was and how hard it was to connect when I threw my punches. It was like trying to catch a chicken.

You landed several shots on him.

I landed some. But one of the things that hindered me in that fight—and hindered me as a boxer, period—was a lack of self-confidence. Although I was pretty good, deep down I always doubted that I was good enough to compete at that top level. And that itself made it a reality. Because there’s nothing that will stifle your ability worse than fear will. The good news is the confidence I lacked as a fighter, I actually have as a performer.

When you worked at the factory, did you ever think about whupping somebody’s ass?

Sure. I thought about it, and I even followed through with it once or twice. …

There was one guy—he was a real big guy—and he was a bully. I think it bothered him that I was getting attention as a boxer. And he had everybody bluffed and everybody intimidated. And to be completely honest because of his size — as big as he was — he had me intimidated just a little bit. And so I honestly didn’t want a confrontation with him. He kept on badgering me, and he followed me into the bathroom one day. No one was in there, except me and him, and he sort of pinned me up against a wall and started pushing me in the chest, and I just unloaded on his head.

You grew up in Tupelo, home of Elvis. I read that because of your upbringing

that you didn’t really listen to rock music around that time. Did you not listen to Elvis even though you lived where he was born?

Because I was in a Pentecostal household, we weren’t allowed to have secular records. But I did have a transistor radio. And I listened to the songs of the day. But, yeah, Elvis has always been an influence. How could he not be? To me he was sort of the Roberto Duran of music: He had that something you can’t teach — you’ve either got it or you don’t. It’s a gift from God and he had it.

You sang “Three Times a Lady” at a talent show in junior high school . How were you able to get away with working on a secular song in your household?

We just weren’t allowed to buy rock records. In the household I grew up in, everything was the devil. You couldn’t go to the movies, because even if you went and saw a Disney movie, according to those people I listened to back then, they were going to take the money they made from the good movies and they were going to make some evil movies. So if you bought a record, you were helping support the devil

What’s cooler — opening for Sting or fighting Roberto Duran?

I guess opening for Sting because I didn’t have what it took to compete at the top level in the boxing game. But I feel like I do in the music game, and I was more in my element and I was more able to enjoy it because I felt more prepared. I’ve been singing in front of congregations since I was three years old.

You’ve had some real surreal moments in your life.

Yeah, I have. It’s almost like a Forrest Gump kind of thing.

Well, I think that’s all the questions I have, unless there’s something else.

Make sure to tell everybody that if they don’t come to my show, they’re going to hell.

Reach Patrick S. Pemberton at 781-7903.