FIVE TO WATCH IN 1995 :...
He was raised in Sherman Oaks, played baseball and football at Van Nuys High, and graduated from Cal State Northridge with a degree in political science.
Peter Broudy has roots there, but that’s not why he has brought his business to the San Fernando Valley.
As president of Celebrity Boxing, Broudy set up the sweet science in the upscale environs of the Warner Center Marriott Grand Ballroom last year for a better reason: He knew the venture would succeed.
First and foremost, beyond any nostalgic calling, Broudy made his decision based on his business instincts.
From his days co-promoting bouts at the Reseda Country Club a decade ago, Broudy knew the Valley was home to legions of weary and wary fight fans.
Past clients told him they were tired of driving to Inglewood and beyond for a night out. They wanted a user-friendly venue.
Broudy, 45, gave them one.
Rejected by hotel management in previous attempts to promote monthly fight cards at the Marriott, Broudy found an enthusiastic partner in Brian Nadley, a young catering executive.
On Nov. 2, about a year and a half after boxing left the Country Club on any regular basis, Broudy hosted his first show in Woodland Hills. A little more than a month after that, he announced a deal with the hotel to promote fight cards on a monthly basis through 1995.
An overflow crowd showed up for the first bouts. The second show, on the night before Thanksgiving, drew a near-capacity throng.
Front-row seats sell for $100. The cheap seats are a pricey $25.
“It’s an expensive night out,” Broudy says. “But you know what? When people call for tickets they’re more worried about location than price. A lot of them never even ask about the price.”
He says they rarely inquire about who is boxing, either.
Just so long as the competition is hot and the drinks are cold, the price be damned.
Always flamboyant with long, rock star-styled hair and wearing his usual attire of slacks, a silk shirt (never a tie) and slip-on shoes with no socks, Broudy emerges from behind the desk of his Sunset Boulevard office and recites cities and streets from his Valley-area client list.
Calabasas . . . Agoura . . . Woodland Hills . . . Locations from the West Valley and south of Ventura. Almost all upper-middle-class and upper-class addresses.
He would like to bring boxing to the Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Center. He would like to bring boxing to a larger venue--if one existed--on the Valley floor.
What if there were an arena at Cal State Northridge? He considers the future possibilities.
In February he will become the first promoter to bring professional boxing to the Southland’s newest and most-trendy sports complex, the Arrowhead Pond in Anaheim.
He is not Don King. He is not Bob Arum. He is not on their scale.
Yet.
