Born April 18, 1939 in East Oklahoma and residing in the mining town of Virginia City, Nevada in the summer of 1975, Caroline Svendsen had already lived a pretty full life. A child bride at thirteen, Svendsen was divorced two times and counting. She was a mother to a pair of teenage boys, Joe and Robbie, and a nineteen-year-old daughter, Dolores, who had a kindergarten aged son of her own, making her Grandma Caroline.
A former softball pitcher back in California, she made her living working construction and remodeling homes during the day and serving cocktails by night, water skiing and camel racing in her leisure time. And all this before her 35th birthday. At least that’s the number she would provide to sports reporters. Caroline would later admit to knocking two years off her actual age when being interviewed.
The reason her name began appearing in newspapers that June had to do with the intrigue swirling around her intention to become a professionally licensed boxer and Svendsen, with good reason, was trepidatious about the prospect of a 36-year-old grandmother being taken seriously by the Nevada Athletic Commission. But serious she was about this audacious if not completely unprecedented venture. ‘Countess’ Jeanne LaMar had been licensed by the state of New Jersey in 1923, and Barbara Buttrick and Phyllis Kugler were both officially sanctioned by the Texas State Athletic Commission ahead of their 1957 bantamweight title bout in San Antonio.
“There are women in so many sports, about any sport a man does. I think it’s exciting to be a boxer. Maybe it’s something different,” mused Svendsen. “They’re probably going to laugh at me. If they do, that would probably make me more determined to do it, and do it good.”
Caroline traveled to Gardnerville on July 3 and personally put her completed application forms in the hands of the Commission’s executive secretary James Deskin, who was sitting ringside to supervise a night of fights. “She’s a very intelligent person. A well-spoken person,” said Deskin when giving his first impression of the female applicant. Several concerns had to be addressed before the Commission would proceed. “Number one, I want the evaluation of the doctors,” Deskin began. His first task was to gather opinions from medical professionals regarding whether there might be an increased risk of developing cancer from being struck in the breasts.
Second on his list of worries was finding a suitable female opponent for Svendsen. “Who’s she gonna fight?” asked Deskin rhetorically before jumping to a wild conclusion. “She’ll never fight a man as long as I’ve got anything to do with the Commission.” This declaration was a moot point, as Svendsen had no intention of engaging in mixed gender matches. Her manager Ted Walker, who previously guided the careers of Larry ‘Irish Pat’ Duncan and middleweight John L. Sullivan and had heavyweight journeyman Terry Hinke on his current roster, was actively searching for a woman to match Caroline against for a spot on the September 19 card scheduled for Virginia City to be headlined by Hinke, who was coming off a year-long sabbatical following a TKO loss to Chuck Wepner.
“I’m not a meat-wagon manager and I agonized over the possibility of her getting hurt before she had any basic skills,” avowed Walker. “Before I ever put a glove on her, I gave Caroline three weeks of tough conditioning. She didn’t holler about those calisthenics, and still doesn’t, so I knew she was serious about becoming a boxer,” he said. “Her best punches are right jabs and right crosses to the head,” he said. “I’ve gotten in the ring with her and boxed, I bet, 250 rounds with her. If I don’t watch myself real closely, she’ll catch me a good one and down I’ll go.”
An astute James Deskin couldn’t help but notice that Caroline used her left hand while filling out her application, another variable he saw as being problematic. “I told her, ‘You have another strike against you,’” he remarked, “‘because it’s hard to find an opponent for a southpaw.’” Nevertheless, Svendsen was approved for her license during the next Commission meeting one week later with “no debate on the matter” despite the absence of doctor’s reports on the breast cancer issue.
In a scornful column for the Spokesman-Review out of Spokane, Washington, Nick Thimmesch dismissed women’s boxing as no more than a “current rage” taking place conveniently enough, he couldn’t help but point out, in “Nevada, the only state where prostitution is legal.” Contempt like this coming from those who refused to distinguish between a hooker and a left-hooker aside, all Caroline needed to do now was pay the $5 application fee and find a worthy adversary. The former was easy enough. The latter not so much.
Jenny Toma was the first name Ted Walker submitted to the Commission as a possible opponent for Svendsen, but James Deskin vetoed her under the suspicion that she was a 51-year-old from Phoenix he knew of who wrestled under the name Princess Toma. Aged 28 and hailing from Drain, Oregon, Connie Costello was given the go-ahead in early September to square off against Svendsen.
Costello sparred in preparation with her husband, who just two years prior had won the Seattle-Tacoma Golden Gloves in the welterweight division. Mike Snyder, a professional middleweight, was asked by Ted Walker to assess Connie’s skills and reported back that “she’s lithe and moves around the ring good.” Things were finally progressing smoothly until Deskin threw a wrench into the works by insisting that the women’s bout be contested not as an officially sanctioned fight, but as an exhibition.
“I think they’re trying to keep me out. I have my license and I’m qualified,” complained Svendsen, who had been working out since receiving her license in July at the Clear Creek Youth Center Gym, a 48-mile round trip. Up before 6am, she started each day with a one-mile run followed by 50 sit-ups, sparring, and hitting the heavy bag.
“We’ve got to start somewhere. I definitely want it to be a real fight. I wouldn’t want to spend my whole career fighting exhibitions because no state wanted to be the first,” said Svendsen. “As long as it’s going to be a girl fighting another girl, why should anyone object to it?” Given no choice but to comply or capitulate, Caroline vowed, “There won’t be any pulling of punches.”
Her grim determination notwithstanding, Svendsen experienced a bout of stage fright before her public workout at a Virginia City saloon three days from fight night, the very thought of which was enough for Caroline to admit, “I almost threw up.” Color-coordinated in matching white tank top, denim cutoffs, and boxing shoes, Svendsen sparred with Benny Casing, a retired Stockton, California featherweight who had embarked on a one-fight comeback three years prior. With nearly 200 fans on hand to watch that afternoon’s action, Terry Hinke went a few rounds with Yaqui Lopez, who was one week away from a rematch with Jesse Burnett in Stockton.
“I have no idea what I’m afraid of,” said Svendsen with one more public workout to conduct the following evening at the Silver Queen Hotel before wading into uncharted waters on Friday. “I don’t know what I’m going to act like when I see my opponent. I’m wondering what my reactions are going to be.”
The opponent Caroline would see and react to would not be Connie Costello after all. Svendsen’s manager Ted Walker alleged that Costello backed out of the fight because “she felt Caroline was too good for her.” Whatever the case, twenty-eight year-old meat-cutter and former wrestler Jean Lange was scared up as a last-minute replacement for Costello. Claiming to have fought to a non-sanctioned four-round draw with a woman named Toma on an Indian reservation in 1973 (presumably the same Toma suggested as Svendsen’s original competitor), Lange hadn’t been near a gym for six months before getting the call on Thursday night.
The five-bout show would take place in a makeshift “bleacher stadium” erected in the parking lot of Virginia City’s Delta Saloon which could accommodate 2,000 spectators but ultimately sat somewhere between twelve to fifteen hundred. Svendsen weighed in at 138 with Lange tipping the scales at 134, both women made by the Nevada Athletic Commission to wear breast and pelvic protectors. “My niece didn’t want to come because she’s afraid I’m going to get beat and embarrass her,” said Svendsen. Her daughter Dolores, however, was in attendance to lend some much-appreciated moral support. As for wishing Mom good luck, she wouldn’t need it.
Despite a case of “first fight jitters,” Svendsen needed only 50 seconds to do away with Jean Lange courtesy of a pair of uppercuts delivered with her glittery gold left-hand glove. “Bring on Ali!” one overzealous audience member was heard yelling. Outfitted for the occasion in a long-sleeved orange and white sweater, beige gloves, gray trunks over black mesh nylons, and black boxing shoes, Lange landed a “wild left” shortly after the opening bell which was said to be the highlight of her offensive output.
“At first, when I came out, I saw all these fists coming at me like a windmill. But the punches in the face brought me around and I soon realized what the other girl was doing. That’s when I started to fight back,” Svendsen recounted afterwards. “I couldn’t believe it when I knocked her out,” Caroline continued, though she expressed concern over the fact that it took approximately twenty seconds for Lange to awaken from her imposed slumber. “Either they get hurt or I get hurt,” she theorized. “She was out to get me down first…only I was stronger.”
After regaining her senses, Lange relented, “She’s a very good fighter.” Whether she had fully gotten her wits about her was up for debate, as Lange was eager for more. “She showed me a few good punches, but that’s about it,” she swore. “Next time I’ll be in the shape to take her.”
Steve Sneddon of the Reno Gazette-Journal wrote, “It was a terrible mismatch. A man wouldn’t have been permitted to do the same thing. Opponents should be thoroughly checked by the Commission.”
On the other hand, the more positive media attention being given to Svendsen was responsible for a recent uptick in Nevada area gym memberships specific to women showing an interest in boxing. “I’ve gotten quite a few letters from girls who’ve heard what I’m doing and have been encouraged to try boxing at the amateur level,” related Caroline. “Maybe they’ll be tomorrow’s pros.”
This trend was not exactly welcomed by Ray Tavares, who coached an amateur boxing team called the Reno Jets. “I just don’t understand it,” Tavares grumbled. “I believe girls are making a big mistake by getting involved in boxing and other contact sports. They just can’t take punishment like a boy can, and they might get hurt.” Sparks Junior Boxing Club president Johnny Rogers echoed Tavares’ cynicism. “I don’t know how many we’re going to get,” he said, referring to female hopefuls, “but I hope it’s not too many.”
Fresh off her knockout victory, Caroline attended the September 24 Yaqui Lopez/Jesse Burnett return bout in Stockton at the Civic Auditorium. San Diego light-heavyweight Hildo Silva, who had dropped a pair of unanimous decisions to Yaqui the year before, was brought into the ring and introduced to the crowd before the main event. Svendsen was acknowledged as well, but suffered the indignity of having to stand and wave to the fans from her seat.
“We won’t let women in the ring. The policy was adopted by the Commission,” explained CSAC executive officer Roy Tennyson in justification of Svendsen’s snub. “Some promoters wanted to use women announcers in the ring so the Commission said there wouldn’t be any women in the ring.” It’s worth noting that just seven months later California would indeed allow women into the ring–specifically Pat Pineda and Kim Maybee, who fought on April 28, 1976 at the Los Angeles Forum–after granting Pineda the first license issued to a female prizefighter in the state’s history in January.
Ted Walker was looking to get Caroline back in the ring as soon as possible which was fine with her. With the search for a new opponent underway, Svendsen was again called on to alleviate the concern that she might entertain the notion of doing battle with a member of the opposite sex. “I don’t want to fight men. I never have,” she affirmed. “And besides, if you beat him, his ego would be crushed. He could never go into a bar again,” Caroline joked.
“I don’t want to look like a man out there in the ring. I think we should go out there with nice hair-do’s and look nice. In fact, when Jean knocked down one of the curls in my fight, that’s when I really got mad,” quipped Svendsen, putting her sense of humor on display for the press. “No, really, it’s got to be developed as a woman’s sport. We just can’t compete with men,” she said. “There’s really going to be a future in boxing for women.”
Not without a struggle, it was announced on October 9 that Svendsen would next compete in two weeks’ time opposite Jennie Josephs of Manteca, California at the Multnomah County Exposition Center in Portland, Oregon. The Portland Boxing Commission’s resolution to permit a women’s fight to appear on the card required commissioner Nick Sckavone to cast the deciding vote in the affirmative, breaking a 2-2 stalemate. Better yet, the commission ruled that it would be a sanctioned bout and not an exhibition.
Josephs fell ill two days prior to the event and was unable to fulfill her contractual obligation due to influenza and laryngitis. Ready and eager to have another go at Svendsen, the reliable Jean Lange caught the next Portland-bound flight out of Phoenix after she got the call.
“I really expected it to last a little longer,” Lange remarked about the first fight. “I think the altitude got to me. I’m a pretty physical person. I always keep myself in good shape.” Committed to staying fit since her knockout loss to Svendsen, her daily workout routine consisted of running, skipping rope, pushups, and sparring against men.
“I think women should be in boxing. I think women should do anything they’re capable of doing. If I could have started when I was about 16 years old, I probably would have done it,” said Lange, whose nine-year-old son was obviously a fan of Mom’s pugilistic exploits. “He thinks it’s great. There’s not too many kids around who can say, ‘My mother is a boxer.’”
The same enthusiasm evidently wasn’t shared by at least a random sampling of the 2,100 fans crammed inside the Expo Center the night of October 23. Or by the Associated Press reporter sent to cover the bout who called it “an alley fight complete with flailing arms and wild punches” preceded by “catcalls, wolf whistles, and applause.”
The first two rounds were apparently uneventful, with only glancing blows landed by both women. Svendsen was noted as being the aggressor, pursuing Lange around the ring. When she was able to catch up with her backpedaling foe, Caroline needed to be extricated from several clinches by referee Louie Meyer.
“This’ll put the game back a hundred years,” some man was heard yelling after first offering to place a $100 wager on Lange, or as he referred to her, “the one in blue.” Whether or not anyone took him up on the bet, he went on to groan, “If they’re going to box, teach ‘em how to box–somebody!” Another dissatisfied paying customer bellowed, “I know four gals who could beat the hell out of both of them!”
In round three, a hard right cross delivered by Jean Lange got the attention of the audience, which collectively “stomped and clapped” its approval, as well as Svendsen whose upswept hairdo came partially undone from the force of the punch. Caroline made sure Lange’s advantage was short-lived by backing her into the ropes and unloosing a barrage of body blows.
Svendsen and Lange were both spent before the end of the fourth and final round, producing flurries with no significant accumulation. They hugged at the final bell to a chorus of boos and one heckler screaming at them to “go home!” Declared the winner by unanimous decision thanks to scores of 40-37, 40-38, and 40-39, Svendsen was unbothered by the agitators.
“They can boo me all they want,” she said in the locker room afterwards, “and I can laugh all the way to the showers.” Though she attested to the fact that she wasn’t in it for the money, Caroline’s exuberant demeanor may have been helped by a bump in pay, from $200 for her exhibition in September to $500 for that evening’s win. “I was expecting a hard fight because I beat her before and she jumped at the chance,” she said.
Lange also refused to let the ridicule get to her. Despite losing to Svendsen on a second consecutive occasion, at least she finished this fight on her feet. “I feel great,” she stated defiantly. “I’m ready to go another four rounds.”
Ted Walker was happy with Svendsen’s progress. “One thing I like even better than the knockout left is the way she blocks and parries,” her manager enthused. “That’s a knack some boxers never learn. They pay no attention to defense and just want to punch all the time.” He was already in the process of lining up her next fight, allowing Caroline some time off training to travel to New York so that she could be a contestant on To Tell the Truth where a panel of celebrity guests try by process of elimination to determine which of three contestants is the correct person associated with the backstory presented to them.
Svendsen’s father Carl, the captain of a San Pablo sportfishing boat, seemed proud of his daughter’s growing reputation as a boxer. “If that’s what she wants to do, I guess that’s ok,” he offered with a hint of paternal reluctance. “She was always a strong kid. I’ve seen times years ago when we’d really get into it wrestling around the house. Sometimes we cleaned out a few rooms of furniture that way.”
Keeping to her monthly fight schedule, Caroline was back in the ring on November 22. Returning to Oregon, Svendsen this time found herself at the Lane County Fairgrounds in Eugene. With ‘The Aurora Lumberjack’ Terry Hinke again topping the bill in a “Do or Die Effort” according to the fight program, Svendsen’s four-rounder against Nadine Gamboa of Fullerton, California was advertised as a “Special History Maker” with this being the first time female prizefighters had competed in the city of Eugene.
Caroline and Hinke would each send their opponents home early that night. The main event of the evening saw Terry Hinke score a fourth-round knockout of Sergio Rodriguez, a 5-5-1 Haitian by way of Brooklyn whose every loss to that point had occurred by way of KO and was currently going under the assumed name Walker Simmons. Earlier on the show, Svendsen put the one and done Nadine Gamboa down for the count in round two for her third straight win bookended by a pair of stoppages.
Svendsen served as maid of honor to Terry Hinke’s bride Bobbe Goodsell at the couple’s December wedding in Virginia City, presided over by Justice of the Peace Edward Coletti with Ted Walker as Hinke’s best man. Not only would Caroline close out the calendar year without another fight, but the slim pickings in terms of opposition would keep her out of the ring for another five months. In fact, although neither of them could possibly know it at the time, Svendsen and Hinke both had only two more fights apiece in their respective future.
Next up for Svendsen at the Hyatt Lake Tahoe Hotel on May 5, 1976 was the baby-faced Ersi Arvizu, a singer turned boxer who was 28 but looked easily ten years younger. The daughter of boxing trainer Art Arvizu, a young Ersi would lend a helping hand in the family’s backyard gym. Arvizu’s musical influence came from her mother, who encouraged her three daughters to do what she was unable to because of her husband’s jealousy. Ersi formed a doowop group with her siblings Rosella and Mary called, naturally enough, The Sisters. The trio went from performing at school dances to becoming the opening act for Tina Turner, Stevie Wonder, the Righteous Brothers, and Sonny and Cher on the strength of a #3 hit record, their cover version of the Dixie Cups’ “Gee, Baby, Gee.”
An opportunity presented itself for Arvizu to front the R & B, jazz, and salsa infused rock band El Chicano in 1970, including playing a concert on the baseball field at Leavenworth Penitentiary. This was particularly memorable to Ersi as a scary experience, being ushered with great urgency by prison guards through the gathering of sex-starved inmates. She later moved to Arizona where she sang in nightclubs and decided to take up boxing without her parent’s approval, or knowledge for that matter. “I grew up with boxing,” Ersi said to the Reno Gazette Journal’s Steve Sneddon. “I’m boxing because I love it. I love the art of boxing.”
Flummoxed by Arvizu’s tendency to fight out of a crouch and bothered by repeated punches to the face, Svendsen couldn’t help but feel that this just wasn’t her night. “Things felt different,” she would remark later. Her premonition, if you can call it that, came to pass in the second round when a wardrobe malfunction in front of 700 fans spelled the beginning of the end.
Boxers are cautioned to “protect yourself at all times” which is advice Svendsen failed to heed when she paused mid-round to adjust her bra which had slipped out of place. Seizing the moment, Arvizu sprang from her crouch and flattened the preoccupied Caroline with a right hand sufficiently to cause referee Mills Lane to halt the bout at the 1:26 mark. “I blew it. I forgot everything I learned,” said a disappointed but not deflated Svendsen. “It’ll just make me train harder. I know now what it’s like to lose and get halfway knocked out.”
With some extra time on her hands after her knockout victory, Ersi Arvizu got a bite to eat and headed over to the Hyatt lounge. Not content to just sit back and watch the jazz combo play, Ersi got onstage to sing with them, catching the eye and ear of the venue’s promoter who signed her to an exclusive deal for three fights and lounge performances. “The promoter told me, ‘I will pay you this much money to box and sing,’” Ersi said. “I told him, ‘What if I get a black eye? What if they stop me? It’s not gonna look good.’”
At the age of 74, Arvizu is still a renowned and active vocalist today. Her boxing career didn’t have anywhere near the same longevity. Her father was handed a copy of The Ring magazine by a fellow patron of his local barbershop who wanted to know why Art’s daughter was featured inside, and that was that.
“My mother called me, crying, saying it was a disgrace to our family, why are you doing this? So I just stopped,” Ersi remembers, calling it quits after just four fights and some apparent soul searching that altered her personal beliefs about women in boxing. “I was okay with it, because to me, honestly, it's not a woman's sport,” reasoned Arvizu, who subsequently trained boxers like her father. However, also like her father, never women. “They asked me to, but I refused to, because I don't believe a woman should be in that ring. The reason I did it is, I needed to take it out of my system."
Two weeks following her TKO loss to Arvizu, Caroline tied the knot for the third time, to Frank Ford of Reno. Four days later, she found herself on the receiving end of an indefinite suspension from the Nevada Athletic Commission. Like her first two marriages, this one was similarly doomed to failure and was over within four years but would outlast the remainder of her boxing career.
“By rights they should have called me so somebody could’ve been there for my defense,” argued Svendsen regarding the Commission’s decision to suspend her without warning. “It’s like being on trial by proxy.”
James Deskin spoke to the media in defense of the Commission, which made the ruling at its monthly meeting on May 20. “She’s been suspended because of the beating she took up there,” he said in reference to the technical knockout Svendsen had sustained. “She’s got a right to a hearing if she disagrees with the suspension. I left it open so that if she goes into the gym and improves, she can be reinstated. There’s nothing against Caroline. She took a helluva beating around the head. If it was a man, this is the same way it would go.”
Svendsen’s manager Ted Walker wasn’t buying it. “I would have felt better if I had been given the courtesy of being asked to testify at the hearing. The persons judging her aren’t qualified to judge. They didn’t question the fighter. She wasn’t asked down to the hearing,” he protested. “The very thing I feared all along is that these athletic commissions want to put women in the same class as men and judge their skills the same way.”
It would be nine months before Svendsen would again appear in a boxing ring. And this time would be for the last time. Barred from fighting in Nevada, where she had made history as the first licensed female boxer in the Silver State, Caroline would travel north of the border in February 1977 to square off against Nader Rankin (identified as Judy Rankin by some sources which may possibly have confused her with the pro golfer) in Calgary, which had never before hosted a women’s bout. Caroline put Rankin down for a ten-count nap at 1:51 of the first round in their abbreviated bout at the Aslan Convention Center with a right hook that broke her opponent’s ear drum.
She was not in celebratory spirits, diminished as they were by the deaths of both her father and sister within a short span of time of one another not long before the fight. To make matters worse, Svendsen was hospitalized on September 9 after being thrown from the camel she was racing in Virginia City, fracturing her skull and leaking spinal fluid from the force of the fall. “I landed on a couple rocks and broke one of them,” she explained to a visiting reporter. “I’m feeling better but I’ll probably be in the hospital a couple more days.”
Svendsen made a full recovery but opted to walk away from boxing to nullify the risk of permanent injury resulting from taking needless blows to the head. Her age, she admitted, was also a determining factor. After a self-imposed hiatus of a few seasons from camel racing, however, Svendsen did eventually return to competition. “Why am I still doing it?” she wondered aloud. “I don’t have any brains I guess.”
Divorced from her third husband Frank, Caroline settled into a spacious Carson City apartment that she shared with Pookie, an 11-year-old Golden Lab/German Shepherd mix, a parrot named Alvin, and her blue-eyed Siamese cat, Charlie.
“When you’re in the spotlight, people don’t believe you can make mistakes. You have to be perfect,” Caroline said, enjoying her hard-won privacy and anonymity. “But I’m just as human as anyone else.”
The trailblazing Caroline Ella Svendsen, sometimes referred to as ‘The First Lady of Boxing,’ passed away on June 24, 2016 at the age of 77.
Sources:
Dewaine Gahan. Gals Put on Gloves (Fremont Tribune, October 3, 1975)
Terri Gunkel. Former Boxer a Private Lady (Reno Gazette-Journal, January 29, 1981)
Paul McCarthy. Fighting Her Way into a New Career (Oakland Tribune, November 23, 1975)
Bob Murphy. High Heels Slugger (Fresno Bee, September 20, 1975)
Steve Sneddon. Virginia City Woman Wants to Be Pro Boxer (Reno Gazette-Journal, June 25, 1975)
Steve Sneddon. Caroline Svendsen, Foe to Make Boxing History (Nevada State Journal, September 7, 1975)
Steve Sneddon. Caroline Svendsen Scared? (Reno Gazette-Journal, September 17, 1975)
Steve Sneddon. Strategy is Simple for Svendsen’s Debut (Edwardsville Intelligencer (September 19, 1975)
Steve Sneddon. Caroline Svendsen is No Longer a Curiosity (Reno Gazette-Journal, September 20, 1975)
Steve Sneddon. First Lady of Boxing Goes Through New Experience (Reno Gazette-Journal, May 6, 1976)
Nick Thimmesch. Unisex Finally Makes it to the Boxing Ring (Spokane Spokesman-Review, September 29, 1978)
Woman Boxer Applies for Nevada License (Nevada State Journal, July 4, 1975)
Caroline Svendsen’s Fate As a Boxer Decided Today (Nevada State Journal, July 10, 1975)
Caroline Svendsen Granted Boxing License in Nevada (Nevada State Journal, July 11, 1975)
Caroline Svendsen (Detroit Free Press, August 12, 1975)
Local Sports in Brief (Reno Gazette-Journal, September 2, 1975)
Caroline Svendsen May Face Roadblock (Reno Gazette-Journal, September 5, 1975)
California Bars Svendsen (Reno Gazette-Journal, September 26, 1975)
Ali Can Rest Easy; Woman Boxer Won’t Challenge Men (Escondido Times-Advocate, October 8, 1975)
Women Get OK to Box in Portland (Wilmington News Journal, October 9, 1975)
Gal KO Victim Subs (Vancouver Columbian, October 23, 1975)
Caroline Svendsen Wins Second Professional Fight (Reno Gazette-Journal, October 24, 1975)
Boxer’s Hair Unravels, She Laughs to Shower (Omaha World-Herald, October 24, 1975)
Boxer Caroline Svendsen Wins Third Fight (Reno Gazette-Journal, November 24, 1975)
Hinke Gets Married in Virginia City (Reno Gazette-Journal, January 1, 1976)
Caroline Gets Fourth Bout (Reno Gazette Journal, May 4, 1976)
Boxer’s Bra Problem Sets Up KO (Arlington Heights Daily Herald, May 7, 1976)
Local Sports Brief (Reno Gazette-Journal, May 17, 1976)
Caroline Given Suspension (Reno Gazette-Journal, May 21, 1976)
Ford to Continue Comeback (Calgary Herald, February 22, 1977)
Layoff Doesn’t Bother First Lady of Boxing (Reno Gazette-Journal, February 28, 1977)
Caroline Kayoed (Macon Telegraph, September 14, 1977)
Camel Races (Reno Gazette-Journal, September 8, 1985)
Ersi Arvizu Throws a Hook (and Chorus). (Bluefat Archive, April 2008)
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/197069782/caroline-ella-svendsen
