Dreamland: Where Filipino Fists Lit Up San Francisco Nights
By Emmanuel Rivera, RRT
PhilBoxing.com
Mon, 28 Apr 2025
Before the condos and skyscrapers rose like silent monuments to the wealthy, before memory gave way to glass and steel, there was a place in San Francisco where fists, not fortunes, determined your worth.
A place called Dreamland— how fitting. The rink, the auditorium, the pavilion— all under one shimmering name.
It began as a skating rink in 1906—built on the scorched bones of a city leveled by the Great San Francisco Earthquake.
A few months after the calamity, Dreamland’s owners saw an opportunity to revitalize business thereafter. In between seasonal offerings like ice skating, conventions and opera, the low-peak rental season was enhanced by featuring boxing. For years, San Francisco was a big fight town and the boxing promoters gave the fans their money’s worth.
Forget slow, cautious fights.
Give the people action.
They slashed the gloves down to five ounces.
They cut fights to just four rounds.
They lit the nights with the crack of leather on flesh—and the crowd loved it.
And when they looked for fighters willing to tear into battle from the opening bell, they turned to two sources: the scrappy Americans… and the fearless Filipinos.
The Rise of Filipino Fury
Eddie Duarte was the first to answer.
Born in Daanbantayan, Cebu Province, toughened in Manila’s dust and docks, Duarte didn’t ask for favors.
He came to Dreamland to throw hands, fighting men like Ben Gard, Johnny Schiff, and Joe Murphy under the harsh lights and howling galleries.
When the posters couldn’t decide what to call him—“Kid Duarte,” “Filipino Duarte”—Eddie let his fists do the talking.
Every jab, every hook, every desperate clinch was a message:
We belong. We can fight. We will not be forgotten.
Then came Maximiano “Max” Villon, known later as Macario Villon.
Faster than most, ruthless when needed, Villon turned Dreamland into his proving ground—knocking out foes like Jack O’Keefe before they could blink.
And Cowboy Reyes, rugged and relentless, carved his own path through Dreamland’s smoky halls, trading blows with American tough guys like Johnny Ortega and Harry Wallace.
Dreamland’s Ghosts Never Sleep
The Dreamland Rink was more than brick and timber.
It was a shrine to those who fought when four rounds were a lifetime—and every second mattered.
Today, when you walk by the corner of Post and Steiner, you won’t find Dreamland anymore.
Instead, you’ll find towering condos, aka townhouses, few can afford.
Luxury for the chosen few.
Dreamland (Winterland) Auditorium, then and now at the intersection of Post and Steiner, SFO.
But back then, for a couple of coins, anyone could step into Dreamland and witness history:
Filipino boys—immigrants, laborers, sons of the Pacific storm—fighting their way into America’s heart.
In the rafters, in the wind, in the memory of leather and blood, you can still hear them:
Duarte. Villon. Reyes.
Fighting not for fame.
Fighting not even for survival.
Fighting because in Dreamland— for one night, in four savage rounds—they were kings.
Sources, Acknowledgements and Recommended Readings:
• Regarding the photos of The Dreamland, a special thanks to Christina Moretta (Photo Curator, Acting Manager) and Lisa Palella (Library Technical Assistant II) at the San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library for their gracious assistance.
• The most famous fighter to grace the ring at Dreamland was Jack Johnson, the Premier American Heavyweight Champion of the World, circa 1910 (Photo source: Photo Morgue, San Francisco History Center @ the San Francisco Public Library)
• All photos and references in this article are properly attributed and comply with the U.S. Fair Use Doctrine.
Click here to view a list of other articles written by Emmanuel Rivera, RRT.
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