Hedgpeth answered the call and in the process launched a career as a referee that continues today and already has included more than a dozen championship fights.

"I became a licensed referee, joined the United States Amateur Boxing Federation and started teaching the sport to kids in the gym," said Hedgpeth, who was hired by the Department of Corrections in 1985.

"Basically," he added, "I kept myself involved in boxing on a number of different levels."

"I tell kids the right way to do things," Kates, now 52, said. "I don't just train the kids. I take it a step further. The kids don't come into the gymnasium cursing, with their pants hanging by their butts, wearing a doo rag or hats that are twisted to the side. I don't allow that. I send them outside and tell them not to come back until they get rid of the doo rag, pull up their pants and speak proper English.

"This isn't just about boxing," he continued. "It's about life."

He refereed his first professional fight in 1990. Not only has he been the third man in the ring in fights throughout New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware, he has officiated in fight cards on the West Coast and overseas - in Russia, Demark and England.

"My job is to ensure the safety of the fighters at all times," Hedgpeth said. "If, for example, I see that a fighter is overmatched, I'll do everything in my power to make sure the guy doesn't get hurt. I'll watch the action really closely. I'll count punches. And if the guy gets hit, the moment I see he's in trouble, I'll move in.

Kates knows about boxing, and he knows about life. He was still a teenager when he turned professional because "I wanted to fight for money, not trophies." He first fight, a four-rounder he won by decision, earned him the princely sum of $50, $15 of which went to the cut man who worked in his corner.

Many more wins would follow, as would a ranking among the top 10 light heavyweights in the sport and an eventual shot at the championship. By the time he finally earned his first world championship fight, Kates had been boxing professionally for nearly a decade. However, he really didn't have an understanding of the inner workings of the sport until that fight.

Wayne Hedgpeth raises the arm of
longtime heavyweight contender
Jesse Ferguson following a fight in
Atlantic City.

Richie Kates was one of the world's
top light heavyweight contenders.

"What separates a good referee from a bad referee is judgment. I certainly don't want to stop a fight prematurely, but my philosophy is that it's better to end a fight and let a guy come back to fight another day than to stand there and allow someone to take an unmerciful beating."

Years ago, a pro boxer named Jody White, a friend and one-time amateur teammate of Hedgpeth's, died following a match in Philadelphia.

"I was an emotional wreck," Hedgpeth recalled. "It just tore me up. The thing is, it gave me a clear understanding of the potential consequences of a fight."

Hedgpeth is well aware of the strength and ability of the boxers on whom he sometimes must impose his will. That's why he works out regularly and keeps himself in top physical condition at all times.

"I've watched Wayne hit the heavy bag," said longtime friend William Freeman, who

heads the NJDOC's Community Labor Assistance Program. "He still demonstrates the skill and power that made him a quality boxer. Put it this way: If he hits someone, he'll hurt him."

However, his commitment to excellence in the ring has never come at the expense of his commitment to the Department of Corrections. Hedgpeth, a father of four, is a certified addictions specialist in addictive disorders who looks forward to work each day.

"It's about helping people, about instilling self-discipline," said Hedgpeth, who earned a master's degree in humanities from Lincoln University in 2001. "When an individual buys into what you're doing, corrections can be very rewarding."

Sort of like boxing.

It was not a pretty lesson.

On May 15, 1976, Kates squared off against rugged Argentinean Victor Galindez in Johannesburg, South Africa. Galindez's World Boxing Association light heavyweight title was on the line. It was during the era of apartheid in South Africa, and the title fight was only the second time in the country's history that a black man (Kates) was permitted to face a white opponent in a boxing ring.

Kates was so focused on Galindez that he didn't allow himself to be distracted by the fact that the ringside seats were occupied by white fans, while the blacks in attendance sat in the so-called "nosebleed seats" in the far reaches of the venue.

"At the time, I wasn't educated about the politics of apartheid," Kates said. "I was there to fight. That was my chance to win the championship, and I wanted to take advantage of it. I also believed that when the people saw I was a human being, really no different than any of them, that my presence could make a positive difference."

In the third round of the fight, Kates delivered a left hook opened a gash near Galindez's left eye. As the New Jersey fighter continued his onslaught, a stunned Galindez made no effort to fight back. In short order, the referee jumped between the two combatants and stopped the fight.

"I assumed the fight was over, and I was the champ," Kates said. "I was as happy and excited as I ever was in my life."

His celebration was abruptly cut short when he was informed the referee had ruled that since Galindez was cut by a head butt - which Kates insists was untrue - the fight would continue.

"They stopped the fight for about 10 minutes, but it felt like a century to me," Kates recalled. "I was standing there thinking about how they took the championship away from me, and I was having trouble coming to terms with it. I went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. Emotionally, it tore me apart."

Galindez ended up winning by technical knockout when the referee stopped the fight with just one second left in the 15th and final round. The champion was ahead on the judges' scorecards at the time, which came as a shock to almost everyone who saw the fight.

"The truth is, I was never the same after that fight," Kates admitted. "I'd train hard, and I was still winning, but I didn't have the same determination. I wasn't making the same sacrifices I made earlier."

Thirteen months later, there was a rematch in Rome, Italy, which Galindez won by decision. Once again, a lot of people who witnessed the fight saw it differently than the judges.

Kates fought for another six years after the 1977 rematch with Galindez, but there would be no more world title fights. When he retired in 1983 - he was 32 at the time - he was still ranked among the world's top 10 light heavyweights.

"I just got tired of the politics in boxing," he said. "I realized that I wasn't going to get a title shot unless I was willing to turn my career over to a promoter, and I wasn't going to do that. So I walked away - and I had no regrets. None whatsoever.

"I try to be a good husband, a good parent and a good citizen. I'm a church deacon. I have a variety of interests. I've seen so many fighters, including ex-champions, who are unable to put sentences together, who are begging for handouts. I take a look at my life, and I consider myself fortunate."

Kates first worked for the New Jersey Department of Corrections in 1973, just after graduating from high school. He left the department after six years, only to return in 1996. He's been part of the NJDOC staff ever since.

"I've always been a people person, someone who believes you might be able to help turn someone's life around by giving him the proper instructions and guidance," Kates said. "I'd like to think that through my job, I've been able to make a positive impact on a significant number of people. What more could I ask for?"