Cream City Boxing Is a Heavy Hitter

Years ago, Kirby Lockett was addicted to watching the news. Day after day, he sat through segments about the violence and crime in Milwaukee, with all of the blame falling on the shoulders of the youth. Growing tired of the negativity, he looked for the missing piece.

“What I decided to do, was to look at what Milwaukee doesn’t have,” he said. “They had boxing gyms, but they didn’t have any on the North Side. Not one.”

Lockett founded Cream City Boxing in 2008, opening two northside gyms at 5246 N. 35th St. and 7826 W. Florist Ave. The gyms quickly became much more than just a place to work out.

“Boxing is the draw,” Lockett said. “But what we do is more mentoring.”

Lockett implemented anti-bullying programs, helped with job searches and guided young people through college applications and military enlistments. Many of Lockett’s boxers credit his mentorship as the reason they attended college.

But the main goal, said Lockett, was to foster genuine connection between people from all walks of life.

“We have police officer members, firefighter members, we have 65% of our membership from the suburbs,” he said. “I’ve always said, I think we’re the only business in Milwaukee that can say we truly are diverse. And what I mean by that is people actually sitting there talking to each other for more than 10 minutes.”

Members at Cream City Boxing pay a one-time fee for a lifetime membership. Over the years, Lockett estimates that the club has acquired nearly 3,000 members.

Cream City Moves to Mill Rd.

One Thursday morning Lockett stands on a workout mat, fielding phone calls while simultaneously watching over an athlete. It’s 10 a.m. — the gym would typically be closed, but Lockett showed up to open the doors for the young man, who needed a workout to clear his head.

Lockett relocated Cream City Boxing into its current location at 5132 W. Mill Rd. in 2018, replacing and closing the earlier two locations. He bought the formerly city-owned building on Mill Road, originally a dinner theater called Broadway Baby, for $10,000.

When asked how much money he’s put into the structure, Lockett just laughs. Before he bought it, Lockett explained, the building sat for years in disrepair, and the surrounding surface lot “became a dump,” with people leaving junk cars and other trash.

“It was a lot of work,” he said. But Cream City Boxing members and donors pulled together $200,000 to get the gym up and running.

The former bar area is now a workout space, complete with weights, stationary bikes, punching bags and a sparring area. Vines of artificial ivy twist around support beams and hang like curtains from the mirrored ceiling, while LED disco lights flash cheerfully on the walls — which are hung with flags from around the world.

The western side of the building, separated from the gym by a wall of black curtains, is a private event space. The former Broadway Baby performance stage is now a bar, though it’s not open to the public.

Framed photos of boxers cover the walls. Some of the photos are of professionals, but others are Lockett’s former athletes. He calls out several by name, giving a quick rundown of their most prominent fights.

Outside, the previously gray-painted building sports a series of colorful murals. A new, fenced-in patio is dotted with artificial plants and a smattering of tables and chairs. An outdoor boxing ring was set up in the lot just a few weeks prior, Lockett said, but has since been stowed away for the winter.

Next summer, Lockett hopes to run the gym as a sports entertainment facility, putting on boxing shows for the public. The events would help the gym generate much-needed revenue.

“Our funding is not like everyone else’s funding,” he said. As an independent gym, Cream City survives on membership fees and donations.

‘$25,000 and a Dream’

Although Lockett has dedicated his life to his boxing club, he doesn’t describe himself as a fighter.

“I boxed in St. Louis when I was 12 and 13, didn’t like it,” he said.

But that didn’t stop him from filling a need in the community.

“I built Cream City Boxing with $25,000 and a dream. I didn’t have a clue,” he said. “But they came.”

The first few years were difficult, and Lockett, a former employee for the City of Milwaukee, said he lost money on bills, taxes and other expenses.

“But you know, we still survived,” he said.

Lockett said he feels frustrated that politicians tend to turn only to faith-based organizations when confronting violence in the community.

“It’s a balance,” he said. “There’s not good and evil, it’s just a balance.”

“What I found out was over the years of dealing with young people, all of them know where a church is…that’s not what they walked into. They walked into a boxing gym. You know, they wanted something else,” he added.

When asked what he thinks boxing offers that faith-based organizations typically don’t, Lockett said he thinks the key is “no pressure.”

“I believe there’s a creator,” he said. “But let’s follow what’s inside you first. You tell me what you need and I’ll see if I can help you. It’s as simple as that.”

“The churches have the funding, churches have the politicians’ ears, you know…but does that trickle down to the community?”

As the young boxer finished up his workout, another coach stepped in to supervise while Lockett made a trip “to pay the bills,” he said with a laugh. Sometimes donations and membership fees pay those bills, other times the money comes from Lockett’s pocket. But they get paid, and the gym stays open.

Lockett explained that some parents are resistant to enrolling their kids because they see boxing as a violent sport.

“People gotta understand, it’s working out,” he said. That’s all it is, a workout. “I tell them you don’t have to fight,” he added. “I don’t care if you ever fight. I want you to go to college. I want you to get a job…you don’t have to fight. I won’t force you. I won’t pressure you.”

While some other gyms are strictly focused on fighting, Lockett said Cream City is “more community-based.”

He said his goal is to understand the needs of his fighters so that he can help them.

“Because someone helped me,” he said. “So I believe in, you know, giving back.”

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