You can tell a lot about a guy by who comes to his funeral. Ask the Azzone family some time. When they lost their beloved husband-father- brother-grandfather, Joe, seven years ago, the world came to their door.

Or so it seemed. What did in fact occur was the arrival of a fighter from Chicago, who somehow coaxed his dilapidated junk-heap of a vehicle into carrying him to St Paul, just because Joe taught him to box.

And the men who approached the Azzone sons, Chris and Joe, Jr., at their father’s casket, telling them how he got them off the streets, into a boxing gymnasium and likely saved them from imprisonment.

Joe Azzone was a man you could count on. His word was his bond. And if something unforeseen occurred and prevented him from carrying out a promise, if someone intervened and inflicted some sort of grievance, Joe would join forces with the aggrieved in pursuit of justice.

He was what some people refer to as “old school.’’ Honest, forthright, a man of integrity. He was by any definition an anomaly, certainly in the world he loved most – immediately following his family – the world of boxing.

You can swear by Joe. He’ll do you right. He’s a man of principle. Give you the shirt off his back. Sound trite, exaggerated? Try telling someone who knew him.

His best friend in the fight game was Hall of Fame inductee Jim O’Hara, Mr. Boxing, and together they re-established the Golden Gloves program in St. Paul in the early 1970s..

An amateur fighter himself, then a coach and trainer of amateur boxers and a pro or two – Jim Beattie and Efrem Maldonado among them –Azzone filled his life with family and with boxing.

“You won’t find many guys more passionate about boxing than Joe. He had an encyclopedic knowledge about boxing,’’ said Daryl Peoples, president of the International Boxing Federation for which Azzone served as a director. He was the only Minnesota to have held that job and supervised several world title fights.

“He was a historian of the game, someone you could sit and listen to forever. There weren’t many Madison Square Garden or even club shows he didn’t know about,.’’ Peoples added.

Joe’s wife Gloria waited for him to come home from the service after he was drafted. She knew it was worth the wait. He became her husband for 56 years, father to their three children, the boys and daughter, Valerie.

“His family always came first,’’ said Gloria. “He was a good man, wouldn’t insult or humiliate anybody. Race didn’t mean anything to him. People came first.’’

Azzone was a probation officer for the state of Minnesota and a social worker for the Catholic Athletic Association. He coached boxing at the St. Paul Police Gym. He was a member of the Minnesota Boxing Commission and became its chairman.

Azzone’s passion for boxing did not transfer to his family in certain respects, his sons for instance.

When Joe, Jr. professed a desire to get into boxing, his dad took him to an amateur bout, sitting him close to the action. “I’m watching the fight and all of a sudden one guy starts getting his butt whipped. There’s blood all over. I decided that I didn’t care to try it,’’ he said.

Joe, Sr. used a different approach when his son, Chris, expressed a desire to fight.

“He hung an Everlast heavy bag in the garage and I’d work out after work,’’ he said. “Dad said before I could get a real fight that I’d have to fight him first.’’

It was a test, a demonstration of sorts. Joe, Sr. gave his son a whipping in the back yard. “Dad was in his early 50s and I was 18. My brother was the timer for three two-minute rounds. I think I hit Dad once and when we finished I went in the house to dinner with a black eye and my mouth cut up. Mom looked at Dad and said ‘look what you did.’ ”

Joe, Sr. , had a short response. “If he can’t beat me he certainly can’t beat a Rice Streeter.’’ Then Joe Sr. took his son to a few boxing cards on Rice Street. “He made me sit in the front row,’’ Chris recalled. “I still used the heavy bag to stay in shape, but after that I lost the desire to fight.’’

Joe Azzone loved boxing but he also knew what it took to become a fighter. He understood what a tough and unforgiving enterprise it can be, and that it required dedication, devotion and direction, to have even half a chance.

His parents were Italian and Sicilian immigrants, and an uncle, Andy Cicarelli, an amateur and professional himself who taught Joe to box.

“Joe was my idol,’’ said Tom Azzone, 14 years his brother’s junior. “His entire life it was boxing with Joe. Boxing, boxing, boxing. I was a little kid and I remember watching Joe box. He loved it.’’

That love was there Joe Azzone’s entire life, displayed in his dedication to kids in need, to the professionals who entrusted him with their care. And, now, it has taken him to the Minnesota Boxing Hall of Fame.