BOARD BRIEFS
 

The Year In Review, by CAC President Nick Bockwinkel

 As we close another year, I wanted to take this opportunity to reflect on the highs and lows of the last 365 days in the world of the Cauliflower Alley Club.  It’s been quite a productive year and we look forward to more in 2008.

 Our Reunion in April was a great success, returning to the Riviera and honoring a fine group of wrestlers and affiliated persons.  It was a pleasure to see so many first-timers there including Steve Williams and Bret Hart, with whom I worked during Calgary’s Stampede Week so many years ago, and it was great to see so many people return to the Reunion after extended absences. 

The event was, of course, bittersweet as we bade farewell to Red Bastien who has served faithfully as our President for seven years; however, I have the honor of stepping into the position and working to fill Red’s shoes.  With Red’s departure came some changes to the Board of Directors as we welcomed Charlie Smith and Wes Daniel to our Board, both of whom continue to serve the Club in many ways and have proven to be tremendous assets to the organization.  At this meeting, we also elected Bishop Jason Sanderson to fill Red’s vacant spot on the Executive Board.  Jason has been a life member of the Club for several years and is one of our biggest supporters.  We are looking forward to the ideas and changes these new faces will bring to our Club.

The CAC’s sister organizations, Gulf Coast Wrestler’s Reunion (in Mobile, AL), the Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame (in Schenectady, NY) and the George Tragos/Lou Thesz Hall of Fame at the Dan Gable International Wrestling Institute & Museum (in Waterloo, IA) all drew outstanding crowds for their events.  It is refreshing to me to see that so many people are willing to come out and support the history of professional wrestling.  It is also great to know that so many of the “boys” are active in the various organizations and are dedicated to keeping their own histories alive.

Just because these events were successes, though, doesn’t mean that there wasn’t a misstep here and there.  The one that comes immediately to mind being Wrestle FanFest in San Francisco which may have been the largest faux pas of them all.  I was fortunate to have received my plane fare and had the opportunity to attend and help sell memberships to the CAC.  Unfortunately, many of our members weren’t so fortunate.  Stories abound of cancelled plane tickets, bounced checks and false advertising.  It’s unfortunate that some people will take advantage of the public’s obvious desire to support the history of our sport.  To all of those burned by this event, fans and wrestlers alike, I encourage you to come visit us at a CAC Reunion and see the difference.  While we can’t pay for you to attend, you will have an opportunity to sell your merchandise, renew old friendships and make quite a few new friends.

In October, the CAC appointed Bob Leonard to its Board of Directors.  Bob, who the Club honored earlier in the year, will serve as our Director of Canadian Affairs and has assumed the responsibility for coordinating all events related to our neighbor to the north.  Also in October, Karl Lauer, Wes Daniel and I met with the Riviera Hotel & Casino event staff to review all of the Reunion event details.  We have our floorplan laid out, the events are all in place and the week is shaping up to be, perhaps, one of the best events we’ve held.  Between the memorabilia fair, the “Members Only” hospitality area, the seminars, the Baloney Blowout, karaoke events and the Banquet, we hope to put on three days of festivities that will call each of you back year after year.

November saw me wind up in the hospital with triple heart bypass surgery.  What started as a hearth cath turned into several weeks of painful recovery, but I’m nearly well now and should be insulting the humanoids again in no time!

Finally, with sadness, we look over the names of those who have passed this year.  With, once again, over 50 names on the RIP board, it really brings home the frailty of life and that we must make every moment valuable.  To those who suffered loss, we again offer our condolences.

To everybody reading this, thank you for your support of The Club.  I look forward to seeing you in Vegas in June.  Have a happy and safe holiday!

While I'm quite proud to be affiliated with the Cauliflower Alley Club right alongside alongside some of the legendary stars I grew up watching as a fan, I am quite content to hear their stories of the hard-knock life that you had to live sometimes to carve out a career in professional wrestling. I did my share of travels and had my relative successes and moderate failures over the years, too... but nothing compared to what my heroes like Mad Dog Vachon, Baron Von Raschke and Nick Bockwinkel experienced.

Cleaning out some old boxes recently, I ran across a number of photos that have yet to find a home in any albums. Two pictures reminded me of a tale from almost 15 years ago that I hope qualifies for recollection, and that some of the readers can sympathize.

September 1993: As I worked my way through my tenure of that "cushy" office position with Nu-Age Wrestling in Wisconsin, I found myself working as a ring announcer, commentator, matchmaker, public and media relations, and anything else that needed to be done before or during a card. So many hats, and wearing none particularly well. One of the headline matches we had booked was a return match in Waupaca, WI between our Light Heavyweight champion Jumpin' Jim Brunzell, and the former champion, The Cobra. Jim had captured the belt in the same building the previous April, and the feud had expanded to include Cobra's fellow masked man in mayhem, Texas Hangman Killer (Mike Moran). On Jim's side was a locally-trained powerlifter, Stephanie VandeWeghe, who wrestled as Stephanie Star. Steph and Cobra had their own history as they worked a number of grudge matches. So we booked a tag match that went about 20 minutes and was a real donnybrook from start-to-finish.

Stephanie was slated for some powerlifting tournaments in the near future and needed a reason for her disappearance from upcoming shows. The finish was booked to where Brunzell would be cut off from helping Stephanie fend off Cobra and Hangman Killer's double team by getting handcuffed to the ropes. In the wonderful world of advance planning, though, I was given two assignments. Originally, they asked me to do a post-match interview as Stepahnie was helped to the dressing room, where Brunzell would issue a fiery challenge for either man to face him. That was the easy part, as I was the host of the TV taping and had control of how things were timed.

The other task was the daunting one. As the match got started, I was slipped the key to unlock the handcuffs and told to handle that duty after the match as well. With nobody to pass along to, and commentary occupying my time, followed by the interview, I had no way to appoint someone else to handle the task without drawing attention to this obvious lapse in judgment.

The match itself went off without a hitch, and the chaos that ensued as Brunzell frantically tried to escape the cuffs was a fever pitch that really charged up the fans and left everyone involved in the bout pleased with the outcome. As Cobra and the Texas Hangman departed, Brunzell gave what I feel was his most empassioned promo that I had witnessed to date, outshining anything in his "major league" career where other partners were considered the promo half of the team, with Brunzell being the athletic, solid worker whose science spoke most loudly.

From the apron, I turned away from Brunzell and wrapped up the segment, still not sure how to segue between being the neutral commentator and the guy who "just happened" to have Brunzell's key to freedom. So I had to buy some time, and I walked back to the announce desk, where I finally eyed a ring crew worker who I could sneak the key to. Meanwhile Brunzell paced the length of the ring, selling the cuffs angrily even long after the cameras were off (and perhaps wondering if he was being ribbed by this point).

As I started to whisper my plan to the ring crew guy, my back to the ring, he said, "Oh, look; someone got him out." That someone happened to be the plain clothes police officer working security, also a holder of the same type of key. Brunzell stormed back to the dressing room, presumably to check on his partner's condition. To this day, I haven't asked Jim if he was told "the announcer will let you out" like some apartment building superintendent with a huge complement of keys on my belt. Like I said wearing many hats, and none of them very well. But at least this time there was some humor from it; at least... looking back.

I have been busy finishing up my 20th book --- this one a biography titled, "Oklahoma Shooter: The Dan Hodge Story."  I've been working on the book, off and on, for about five years, compiling information and notes and expect the book to be out early next spring. I've known Dan since writing a book in 1976 entitled, "Two Guys Named Dan," which was about Dan Hodge and Dan Gable. There are three companies interested in publishing the book, which will have lots of great photos from Dan's amateur and pro wrestling careers, as well as his time spent boxing.

Also, Paladin Press will be publishing another of my books in April of 2008. It is about Frank Gotch, focusing on his career in catch as catch can wrestling. Paladin is a large publishing house located in Boulder, Colorado, that has moved into the martial arts and wrestling market in the past couple of years.

The book is scheduled to coincide with the 100th anniversary of Gotch's historic victory over George Hackenschmidt on April 3, 1908. Gotch's victory over Hackenschmidt, considered virtually unbeatable at the time, changed the style of wrestling in the pro ranks from the slower, classic Greco-Roman style to the wide-open catch style. Many sports historians feel that Goth's popularity helped kick off a movement among the nation's high schools and colleges to begin wrestling programs.

In addition, the Dan Gable International Wrestling Institute and Museum, where I serve as the executive director, has commissioned an oil painting called "The Match of the Century," showing Gotch and Hackenschmdit in the ring on April 3, 1908. Just 100 prints signed by the artist will go on sale, on April 3, 2008, at the museum.

Time really does fly.  The Holidays are almost here, and how many said a few years back, "I'll never see the year 2000," and here it is 2008. I can remember thinking that 70 was ancient age, and in 8 months I'll be there  .Doesn't seem so old anymore.

Last time I shared 3 of my favorite swerves by 3 of my favorite people Vic Christy, Ray Stevens and Antone "Ripper" Leone.  This time, lets talk about the ones that as a young boy, 1947 through 1956, I really admired and respected., for they took good care of me and helped me understand what friendship and caring for each other was all about. I wanted to believe all that went on in the ring was real, and while I watched, it was to me.

I was at the Hollywood Legion Stadium, one of the early Mecca's of Pro Wrestling in Southern California, the night the Alex Kasaboski died in the ring, during a match with Danny McShane. I do not remember the year (editors note: it was June 13, 1952) but will always remember the locker room and the way the wrestlers felt, I could see, even as a young boy, these guys had a fraternity and a true respect and caring for each other. Other matches were cancelled that night when the announcer said he had died. Even the fans respectfully and quietly stood bowed their head and slowly left the building, no one yelled or asked for their money back. It was announced the next day on TV, radio and papers that he died from a brain aneurysm. The point here though is the attitude of the fans and the wrestlers. Kayfabe was alive and well back then, but the love and respect the boys had earned from the fans was something that will never be again. Wrestlers were real celebrities and actually the first major TV stars, they were important and gave back.

it was not uncommon the see the likes of Clark Gable, Jim Cagney, Claudette Colbert, Glen Ford and a host of movie stars there in the first row, and if Gorgeous George was on the card, the stars came out in crowds, movie stars stood in line to get THEIR picture taken with George.

My oldest and best friend of that era is Leo Garibaldi. Before Elvis, there was Leo, the first true Teen Idol. With the 14 plus arenas we had running WEEKLY Leo was only available once or so a month and the promoters wanted him. If he was on the card you knew you would have 300 plus girls there. probably one of the most colorful and exciting wrestlers of the time, at 18 years of age, it was reported that his fan club exceeded 10.000 female members, maybe a partial work, but every time we went to the matches together, we left early or waited to be last, or he would need a new shirt. One time they actually pulled some of his hair out just to have some. Leo now lives in Vegas and if his health permits, we will try to get him to the CAC next June. After an injury caused Leo to quit wrestling, his fantastic mind and knowledge of the business learned from his dad Gino Garibaldi and 3 uncles John, Chick and Ralph, he became one of our major bookers. Ask anyone who ever worked the Carolinas or Southern states, or Texas or California in the 70's, and they will tell you they all made good money when Leo ran the book.

California was a great place to grow up as a wrestling fan or a wrestler, our WEEKLY shows in the 40's through the 60's ran on Monday in Pasadena, Hollywood and Redondo Beach; Tuesday in San Diego and South Gate; Wednesday at the Olympic Auditorium in Downtown LA and Victorville; Thursday in Long Beach, Bakersfield and sometimes Palmdale or Northridge; Friday in Huntington Park and Santa Monica; Saturday in Valley Gardens and Oceanside and Sunday in San Bernardino. Plus there were various spot shows at high schools and lodges. Another HUGE event was a softball game played twice a year, when the wrestlers took on the Hollywood Stars minor league team and then later in the year the Hollywood Movie Stars, that was almost impossible to get a seat for, and it was 100% for the children's hospital in Hollywood. One year Roger Mackay struck out Randolph Scott, and part of the show challenged to a quick draw contest, Roger lost and then Ricky Starr did a complete ballet dance around the bases when he hit a homer, it took him about 5 minutes to make it around.

Monday was live on TV from Hollywood, Wednesday from the Olympic and Friday from Ocean Park and they were always full. How did they have it on TV and still sell out 80% plus?  There always a good angle match that was after curfew, TV curfew was 9:30, so to see this match you wanted to see more then anything, you had to go to the arena. So you went.  Plus, in person you got to talk to the wrestlers, get pictures and autographs.  Wrestlers loved it because the longest drive was 100 miles to either San Diego or Bakersfield. you were home every night and the pay was pretty decent also, plus you could work every night if you chose to and were good enough.

The wrestlers that I saw every week for 10 plus years were Baron Leone, Danny McShane, Pat Fraley, Brother Frank Jares, Vic and Ted Christy. Great Bolo, Tom Rice, Zebra Kid, Angelo Martinelli, Honest John Criteria, Jim Mitchell, Woody Strode, Billy McDaniel's, Freddie Blassie, The Garibaldis, Mr Moto, Great Togo, Terry McGinnis, Sandor Szabo, Hans and Fritz Schnable, George and Bobby Becker, Ray Stern, Bob McCune, Andre Drapp, Billy Varga, John Tolos, Johnnie James, George Temple and Shiek Lawerence to name a few, and every year we got Argentina Rocca , Johnny Valentine, Lou Thesz, Buddy Rogers and the touring super stars from the magazines.

These were truly the golden years, and in the early 50's I watched our President Nicky Bockwinkel break into the business. I still have one of his first autographs on the very first article ever written about him in a wrestling magazine. He was a real challenge to Leo Garibaldi's female membership.

Hope everyone has a wonderful Holiday season, and is planning on a trip to Vegas next June.

We stayed at the Holiday Inn in Hattiesburg on Thursday nights. We would always go up early and make the radio interview. We got to the motel early enough before the interview so the yardman, his name was Carl, could wash our car before going downtown. Most of the time Bobby and I would stay in the same room with two beds. This day they put us in separate rooms with my room being about 5 or 6 rooms on up from Bobby's, so I parked my car in front of my room. Carl would have to pass by Bobby's room getting to my car to wash it. Bobby told me to stand out by the car with the trunk up and when I saw Carl coming to close the trunk, so he could jump out on him and scare him. A guy that was checked in was coming back to his room, so I closed the trunk. Bobby jumped out and scared the wrong guy. It Scared Bobby Too!!!!

Granted, it was a speech at a professional wrestling themed event, and, granted, the audience consisted of veteran wrestlers, promoters, bookers, referees and wrestling fans, but dang it, Jesse Ventura really hammered on a point that was dear to my heart. He said, "...professional wrestling is the only pro sport that brought the event to the people."

Sure, we had our weekly house shows in big metropolitan areas, but sometimes the rest of the week consisted of performing in "tank" towns throughout the territory that really only saw town parades, art fairs, or once-a-year traveling carnival shows as "out-of-the-area" entertainment.

As a professional wrestling promoter in the Pacific Northwest in the 1960's and 1970s, I can assure you we ran mat shows in just about every incorporated town in Washington State, and maybe even a few that actually didn't qualify as honest to goodness towns.

Promoting the event in small towns was really as easy job, because if the town had a (weekly) newspaper, we would always get front page coverage. No town resident wouldn't be aware that wrestling was going to be there on such and such a night.

Late in 1973, I had booked Wilbur (Washington), a sleepy farm town about 60 miles off the interstate and about 95 miles west of Spokane. There was one motel in the community, (the Wilbur Inn); one school that was subdivided for elementary, junior and senior students, no movie theaters, one drug store, one hardware store, a huge grain factory, three taverns and dozens and dozens of empty store fronts with "For Rent" or "For Lease" signs plastered freely about.

We worked in the school gymnasium that had a double set of bleachers on both sides of the gym floors and after covering the wood floor with our carpet, we were allowed to place our 540 ringside chairs as well as our 18'x 18' ring.

The wrestlers on the card that night, true professionals, knew they had to work slightly differently, because they realized that every person attending the matches that night, knew each other. There wasn't a stranger in the house, except for us.

Man, can you get heat when you belittle the most popular person in town.

About 15 minutes into the show, an alarm went off and nine volunteer fire fighters jumped up out of their seats and raced out of the building on their way to battle a fire someplace in the nearby hills. The town mayor, a lady of about 85 was sitting in the front row and before the start of the next match I called her to the ring and gave her an envelope with instructions to refund the monies these firefighters paid for their wrestling tickets. That got over, big time!

Yes Jesse, you are so right, we took wrestling to the people no matter where they lived, and they were grateful for it...and don't tell anybody, but we enjoyed it as much, if not more, than they did.

It seems that my bear story was popular, so here's another one.  Same bear, only earlier than the Bob Dalton deal. This happened about two or three weeks after I had brought the bear to Lafayette. I was riding with Terry and Ronnie Garvin back from Morgan City, when we cooked up this little rib.

As I told you, the bear trailer was behind Bill's trailer. I could tie the bear up in the front end of the trailer so Bill could see the door on the back open from his window, but couldn't see the bear. Terry let me out of the car before we got to Bill's trailer. I tied the bear and left the door open. Walked back to where Terry and Ronnie could see I had the bear ready. I lived right behind the arena in an apartment.

Bill did not know I was with Terry Garvin. They Drove up to Bill's trailer, blew the horn, got out and knocked on Bill's door. As Bill opened the door Terry jumped off of the porch and yelled, "My God! What's that?  It's the bear! It's the bear!!  Bill, the bear is loose!!"

Bill looked out his back window and saw the bear cage door open. He was yelling and asking who let him out and where is Kelly. Terry said he didn't know where I was. Bill told him to go over to the apartment and see if I was there. Ronnie stayed where Bill could see him, until Terry and I came up. I started asking, who had been messing around with the bear, Bill said he didn't know, but I better find him.

Terry yelled, "Here he is, Kelly, here he is!" I ran out asking where, to which Terry replied it was under the trailer.  Then Terry yelled, "Hey Bill, come down here on this end, jump up and down and run him out." Bill started jumping up and down, then Terry yelled, "He's heading to the other end, Bill, come down here, hurry hurry."

Bill ran down there and started jumping up and down. I tell you, Ronnie and I were about to laugh ourselves to death. Terry yelled, "He's coming out Bill, Kelly, the bear is coming out! Keep jumping Bill."  Bill was jumping up and down as hard as he could. Terry yelled that the bear was going back
under the trailer and to keep jumping. Bill jumped a few more time then came to the door, looked out and saw us laughing and he knew he had been had. We all had a big laugh together. Rest In Peace Bill and Terry, I love ya.

I was at the Cow Palace two week ago for the now infamous Wrestle Fan Fest. We all know what a mess it turned out to be -- for the fans as well as the wrestlers, it was a rip-off on a grand scale. But knowing what the original concept for the event was, it was even more disappointing for me.

I first learned of what was to become Wrestle Fan Fest about 8 or 9 months ago. A building constantly in peril in an area in love with re-development, the Cow Palace's land was now eyeballed for condos. The fellow who claimed to be a promoter (who will remain nameless, since I don't even know what his real name is) wanted to collect all the major stars that appeared there for one last hurrah. As a wrestling fan who grew up in the Bay Area, it was something that seemed perfectly appropriate.

The initial card was going to feature performers and matches that had a direct relation to the venue. Moondog Ed Moretti and Steve Pardee, both of whom started their careers there in 1978, were going to have their final match against one another, refereed by the man who broke them in, Playboy Buddy Rose. If the rest of the card followed this pattern, there would have been some definite emotional resonance with the older wrestling fans in the area. That, coupled with a few of the headline names that are still nationally known, would have made for a very special event. I don't think it would have been a monster draw, but it would have been a show that everyone would fondly remember.

Things sadly went in another direction, and the "promoter" got delusions of grandeur that ended up swallowing him. It became "the world's biggest fan fest," with every major star in the business not under contract with WWE to be in attendance. Hall & Nash, Steve Austin, Goldberg, Great Muta -- they became the focus. What could have been the main event was now relegated to curtain jerker status.

Several wrestlers did appear there who were key figures in the local scene, and none of this was played up. For example, Roddy Piper battled Moondog Lonnie Mayne in some terrific battles in the late 1970s, but instead of making mention of that, most people only thought of his matches with Hulk Hogan. Nick Bockwinkel lost the AWA World Heavyweight title to Curt Hennig thanks to the interference of Larry Zbyzsko. Jimmy Snuka. Harley Race..So many missed opportunities.

Countless performers who were major stars for Roy Shire still live in close proximity to the Cow Palace. Most were not used. It broke my heart to see Woody Farmer looking around the nearly empty event in his wheelchair, with scarcely a notice of who he was or what he accomplished in that very venue. Thankfully I was there to see him talk with the gentleman from Horwinski Printing, who had a few vintage posters for sale featuring Woody's exploits from around the Bay.

I always refer back to the old saying "To know where you're going, you've got to know where you've been." The memories that permeate the walls of the Cow Palace are a drawing factor in themselves, and if you promote everything with a proper hand and an eye for detail, you have really got something. But if you don't choose to acknowledge what transpired at the Cow Palace at all, then why even promote there?

I would love to see a proper reunion of the people who made the Cow Palace great. However, since Wrestle Fan Fest was such a disillusioning experience for everybody involved, I can't see it ever happening. What a crying shame. It's pathetic that somebody who clearly had no love or knowledge of professional wrestling came into town and poisoned the waters, but the damage is now done. More than all the money lost at that event, it's that so-called promoter urinating on the legacy of professional wrestling that hurt me the most. But, it's like my friend Percy Pringle likes to say, "That's rasslin!"

That's right. You read it right. I did the unthinkable, the impossible: I knocked the great Lou Thesz right on his keester. And I'd do it again.

I was all of 17 years old and, at the behest of my father, Warren, Lou had agreed to work out with me. We were on live television from the Santa Monica Arena and my father and Jules Strongbow were standing on the ring apron. Lou had turned to talk to them and turned around right before the bell rang.

The bell rang and I, with the enthusiasm and zeal that only a 17-year old can have, came running to the middle of the ring. I wanted to prove myself, to show that I had what it took and to make a good impression. My intention was to come nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest with the champ.

Unfortunately, I had a little too much enthusiasm and zeal. While Lou was also expecting to meet me in the middle of the ring, I overshot my target and ran directly into him knocking him on his tailbone.

Fortunately, Lou liked me and recognized that my enthusiasm was a good thing. But, I will forever be able to tell others about the day that I put Lou on his back.
 

"The Loop"

I spent the summer of 1962 in the Calgary territory. I had been in the business about two and a half years at the time, and it was a learning experience and fun for a 21 year old youngster most of the time. But one of the trips around the loop was an experience that is still relatively fresh in my mind even 45 years later.

I am sure, if you counted them all up, the mileage I have covered as a pro wrestler would be in the millions; but this, my first trip around the famed Calgary loop, was one of the all time worst.

That summer the loop began on Tuesday as we headed to Edmonton, then drove all night an arrived in Saskatoon early morning Wednesday, checked into the hotel and slept till late afternoon and headed to the arena. We spent Wednesday night there and drove on to Regina for the Thursday night matches, and then the plan was another all night drive arriving in the wee hours of the morning in Calgary for a Friday night show.

This was my first time in Calgary and the driving on the loop was done in a Cadillac Limo owned by Hans Hermann. Also sharing the ride this trip were Dennis Hall, Jim Grabmire, and Mike Valentino (Baron Scicluna).

Everything went as well as can be expected until we hit the last leg of the journey from Regina toward Calgary. After driving for a couple of hours Hans decided it was time to eat. After our meal he mentioned to Hall that since Dennis also owned a Caddy and understood these great automobiles (remember that for later) he would like him to drive a bit since Hans had driven the entire loop up to that point.

So off we went, headed toward Calgary, Dennis in the driver's seat, Hans riding shotgun and the rest of us in the back. Well, about 45 minutes into the trip we began hearing a squealing noise coming from the rear of the car. After a few minutes of this Hermann tells Dennis to pull over as he wants to investigate what the problem is.

After checking around, it was discovered that the emergency brake had not been released and we had been running about 70 MPH with it on. Hans went on a rant at Dennis saying he thought that Hall understood the Cadillac automobile. Hall's retort? "I never put my emergency brake on!"

It was time to once again shift the seating with Hans driving, Mike in the front, and from left to right facing forward are Grabmire, myself, and Hall. Herman is not sure how much damage has been done and takes off running no more then 30 MPH with the axle squealing away. At this speed we were anticipating arriving in Calgary about noon Friday!!

As we went along, the noise at the rear subsided and Hans decided to speed up just a little. First, up to 35, then 40 and then finally he got to 50 MPG!  By this time Jim on my left has pulled his turtle neck over his head and gone to sleep and I was busy ragging on Dennis about being a Caddy expert.

All of a sudden, the right rear of the car dropped and we could hear and feel the frame and undercarriage of the car dragging on the highway. As Hall and I both looked to our right out the rear door window, we saw the right rear tire passing us on the road!!  

Herman was trying to control the big car and bring the speed down and in seconds we are at about 20 MPH. Hall, thinking the same thing me, saw that the gas tank was dragging on the rough pavement and could explode at any point. Dennis threw open the rear door and leaps out of the car while I elbowed the sleeping Grabmire and slid over toward the open door.

I remember looking back and seeing Jim's head come popping out of that sweater like a turtle's head out of its shell with a "What the hell is happening?!?" expression on his face.

Just as I began to jump following Hall out of the still moving car, Mike grabbed the wheel trying to help Hans control it and cranked It HARD RIGHT! Now I was not just trying to jump, land and keep my balance, but also trying to reposition myself in mid-air as that open door was coming back at me and the last thing I wanted to do was slam into that.

I cleared the door all right but in landing I lost my balance and ended up skidding a few feet on my hands and knees. By this time, the car was stopped, everyone had bailed out and we were all lying in the ditch like commandos waiting for the big Caddy to blow up.

Mike raced up to the trunk of the car, popped the release button and threw our bags down in the ditch (he had the presence of mind to save our wrestling gear) and then dove back into the ditch with the rest of us.

After all this craziness, as we lay there, the only thing that happened was the severed brake line dripping fluid on the hot axle housing made a flame about the size of a candle.

Once we figured out that the car wasn't going to blow up, we started to assess the damage. What had happened was the rear axle had sheered from the heat of the brake being on so long and released the rear tire which dropped the car on the axle housing. In my bump, I had peeled the skin off the heels of both hands, cut both knees open, and torn the knees out of my slacks and the toes out of my loafers. Other than that, the major problem was the car was now immobile.

We were still a couple of hundred miles from Calgary, and the other cars on the loop had passed us when we stopped to eat. Believe me when I tell you this was not a well traveled highway at 3 AM!

Realize that this was in the days before cell phones, so we had to wait for someone to come along and hope they would stop. After about 30 minutes a rancher came by in his pickup truck and we flagged him down. As luck would have it, he was headed into Calgary for the day and said we could ride along. He took us to the nearest truck stop which was a good 50 miles and made arrangements for them to tow Hans's beloved Cadillac in for repairs while I had a chance to wash out my cuts and put some bandages on to stop the bleeding.

The last two hours of our trip had Hans in the truck cab with the rancher and the rest of us shivering through the morning chill in the bed of the truck at about 70 all the way.

Dennis, Grabmire and I were staying at The Calgarian Hotel and the rancher dropped us about four blocks away at 8 that morning. Boy, were we a motley looking group as we trudged the sidewalks carrying our bags, looking like three bums just arriving in town. I looked the worst, with the holes in the knees of my pants and bandaged hands.

As we entered our hotel, the desk clerk looked at us in astonishment and before he could say anything, I said, "Just don't ask!"

That was my introduction to the infamous Calgary loop. Thank God the rest of my stay there that summer was without problems.      

HIT AND RUN...

It was a grand spring day and I was traveling with Bull Curry, Golden Boy Mike Madison and Walter "Killer" Kowalski to New Haven, Ct for a meeting with the program director of Channel 8 to promote our TV show, Bedlam From Boston for possible telecasting at their station.

There was a parking garage next to the TV station.  Walter was driving his brand new Lincoln Continental.  We entered the garage and were in line to get a ticket from the ticket machine.  The car in front of us decided to go in reverse and hit Killer Kowalski's car.  The driver, a young man about 20-22 or so, stepped out and started to yell.  Walter stepped out of the car and the kid looked at him, had some second thoughts but then started to scream again.  Bull stepped out of the car and the guys head was like a tennis ball going back and forth until he just darted off. 

A police officer was coming down the ramp and we flagged him down.  He took notes and when he asked for ages, Bull Curry said to him, “I am 49.”  The 3 of us just looked at each other and smiled but had a good laugh about it on the way home.

We found out that the car was stolen thus the other reason the fella left.

PAGING BORIS K FABIAN

I worked for seven years in New York City at the Port Authority Bus Terminal as a dispatcher and every once in a while I would see some of the boys standing in line ready to board a bus.

When I would see them I would get on the PA system and make the following page:
"Will Boris K. Fabian please report to Gate ###.  (Where ever they were standing). I would watch Lou Albano, Joe Turco, Paul Vachon or the late Dr. Jerry Graham start looking around in a state of total bewilderment.  I then would walk down the aisle and say hello.  They then realized that I had just pulled a rib and we got a good laugh out of it. 

Flea Market Flim - Flam

A couple of years ago when I was at a flea market I noticed a dealer had a framed photo of a wrestler with a price of $30.00.  I was looking at it and he asked me if I was interested. 

I told him I was and that it was a very neat photo.  I then asked him who the wrestler was.  He said it was a world champion (no belt in photo). I said to him well the photo is not good unless I have a name.  It only took a second for him to tell me it was a wrestler named Cyclone Brown.

I looked at him said, "Come on, you just made that up.  I know who he is and there are probably only a dozen or so people that would recognize him."  He said, “Well, tell me who he is then."  I replied that it was Jack Pfefer and he quickly wrote the name down.  Of course it was not Jack Pfefer, but one of his champions, Jack Sherry.

The name of Bobby Shane was responsible for the biggest work ever played on me. It happened in 1975 and I was ready to inflict injury on the offender. Today in hindsight, it was choreographed so well that we still roll on the floor in laughter when bringing it up at wrestling reunions.

I guess the work actually started in 1962. That was the year I first met a newcomer to the business named Bobby Shane. Prior to our introduction, I thought I was a wrestling freak. If there was information to be found about wrestling, regardless of how trivial, I had to know about it. Wrestling was my life, so in my mind, I had convinced myself that it was important to know useless facts like the name of the timekeeper for the matches in Kansas City, or what company printed tickets for the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles.

Then I met Bobby Shane... and I discovered there was another wrestling zealot besides me. Bobby Shane not only knew the name of the timekeeper in Kansas City... he new his wife's name. He knew not only the name of the printing company that printed tickets for the Olympic Auditorium, but he knew how the Olympic numbered their seats and assigned names for each section.

Well, I guess you could say the two of us hit it off. We went on the road together (he wrestled, I either sold programs or reffed), but during the countless hours of road travel, all we talked about was wrestling. Shane left the area after awhile, but we kept in contact daily. When he returned a year or so later, we continued our relationship where we left off and this mutual admiration for us two peas in a pod continued for the rest of his life.

He helped me more than I helped him, giving me ideas and finishes for the territory I ran in the 1970s. He even helped me with talent sending in people like Ricky Gibson and Eric Pomeroy to spruce up some of our cards.

I made a lot of friends in wrestling, but Bobby Shane was my first and closest.

That was the genesis for the work.

In 1975 I got a phone call from a wrestler calling himself Carl Best.  Although I had never heard of him, he told me he was from St. Louis and had been trained by Bobby Shane and even had some of Bobby's ring robes. He said the right thing and I gave him a starting date in Seattle.

His starting day arrived and I was in the dressing room with the boys, and in walks Carl Best. He looked like a stout Bobby Shane. He had that same boyish look, same walk, and he had a robe that I saw Bobby Shane wear at the Omni in Atlanta.

I thought to myself that I would use this boy good and give him the push to bring out his talent. He was on the opener that night against Goldie Rodgers, a Canadian who was a good solid worker and always added credibility to the card. Goldie, Carl Best, and the referee Johnny Dupree and I had our little talk and I went on to other pre-match chores.

Right at eight o'clock which was match time, Referee Dupree came up to me and asked, "...have you seen this kids list?" I had no idea what Dupree was talking about

Best was standing there wearing Bobby's boots and Bobby's robe and he was concentrating on a piece of paper in his hand. "Whataya reading Carl?" I asked with authority. When he showed me, I needed smelling salts.

It was a list of five things to do that night and he told me he was having trouble memorizing them. I still have his list:
#1: Walk to ring.
#2: Yell at crowd.
#3: Get in ring.
#4: Take off robe.
#5: Yell at referee.

It was only a feeling that a promoter could get. It wasn't a sell out that night, but it was a good house. I was sending out a complete mark, who obviously had never ever been in a ring before, and he was going to win.

I assumed he didn't speak carny so as Goldie Rodgers and Johnny Dupree left the dressing room to answer the bell, we were able to secretly "adjust" the program.

Goldie beat him by throwing him over the top rope and maybe the ref made a fast twenty count, but he didn't have to. Carl Best was still lying on the floor outside the ring nursing a banged-up elbow and bruised knee he suffered in his first (and last) bout, some five minutes after his contest ended.

The late Bobby Shane got me...but I still love him.

Wrestling is a sport that is designed to foster egos. This is necessary as a wrestler who doesn't have a healthy self image doesn't do much to promote himself or make an attempt to get over with the crowd. This is ego in a positive sense. In a negative sense, it leads to us believing in our own press and loosing sight of what matters.

This lesson was driven home to me during a wrestling card at my old high school. At that time I had one of our belts and was supposed to be defending it in the semi-main event. I won't deny that I was thrilled. My family was there, many of my former teachers were going to be there, old friends I hadn't seen in...well, awhile, were going to be there. It was going to be a dream come true.

Unfortunately, fortune had other ideas.

Two weeks before, I developed a severe infection in my knee cap. It swelled up to the size and color of a beef steak tomato and was so painful I seriously considered taking a chainsaw to it. A quick trip to the hospital, and a brief stay, resulted in me being put on a powerful antibiotic for at least 6 weeks. So powerful in fact, that it had to be taken through a tube inserted into my arm because it had to filter in through the muscles.

"Under no circumstances are you to do anything to damage that tube," the doctor told me. "The results could be serious."

"How serious?"

"It would require major surgery to remove it if it broke in there."

Needless to say, wrestling was out. To say that I was disappointed is putting it mildly. I still showed up, made sure I had my gear on and conducted myself like a professional. Even when it was announced that due to doctor's orders, I would not be allowed to wrestle that night. So, instead of defending my belt in my high school gym, I was in the center of the ring handing it over until a new champion of the now vacant title could be determined. I didn't say anything when I did that. I didn't say anything when I noticed the look of disappointment on the faces of my friends and family. I didn't even say anything when I overheard people in the balcony suggest that the reason I wasn't wrestling was because I was a coward. I didn't say anything, but boy was I thinking a lot of stuff!
I did not want to go out to sign autographs during intermission, I didn't want to interrupt my personal pity party. But, I did have a lot of people that had come to see me, and I might as well say hello to them. While I was out there, a group of young kids came over to meet me and get their pictures taken with me. One of them, a boy of about 6, noticed the tube sticking out from my bandage and became very excited.

"I know what that is!" he cried, pointing and jumping up and down. I noticed what he was pointing at, and rather self consciously tried to pull the bandage down over it. Shut up, kid; I thought to myself. I didn't want anyone to see it.

"It's nothing," I said impatiently. "Nothing to worry about."

"That is so cool!" he said, opening his shirt to show a similar tube in his chest. "I've got one too! I use it for my chemo. Do you take chemo too?"

Before I could answer him, he turned to his mother.

"You're right mom," he told her. "It must really be OK to have this if the Wolfman has one too."

That brought everything into perspective for me, and I realized that what had happened had done so for a purpose. I felt life was unfair because I couldn't stroke my ego. This little boy was fighting cancer. I couldn't get over in the ring, but I helped that boy get over his fears. I might not have been the big shot hero in a lot of people's eyes, but I only needed to be for that one little boy.
 

What I've Learned: Killer Kowalski
Professional wrestler, 80, North Andover, Massachusetts

Doctors say take an aspirin every day. Don't. Cayenne powder is better.

I didn't grow up wanting to be a professional wrestler. I wanted to be an electrical engineer. I was a big, strong kid, working at the Ford Motor Company. Fixing machinery. Guy told me, "Take up professional wrestling.  You'll make enough to pay your way through college." "Oh," I said, "okay."
 

When I started, I was Wladek Kowalski. My name changed on one day -- all because of a cauliflower ear.

You know what a cauliflower ear is? Good. I was wrestling a guy in Montreal. Yukon Eric. I used to jump off the top rope and put my shinbone across my opponent's chest. So I tied Yukon Eric up in the ropes. Then I climbed to the top turnbuckle and jumped. He saw me coming and tried to turn away. But my shinbone scraped his cheek so tight, it caught his cauliflower ear. The ear flew off and rolled across the ring like a little ball. The referee picked it up. It was still throbbing. He looked over at me and said, "That's his ear." Then he looked around for Yukon Eric. Yukon Eric was already headed back to the dressing room with a towel wrapped around his head.

The ref put the ear in his pocket and said, "What should I do?" I said, "Raise my arm. I'm the only one left."

A few days later, I went to get paid at the wrestling office. They asked me to go to the hospital and apologize. Apologize? I never apologized in my life. But I went to the hospital. There were a bunch of newspaper reporters in the hallway. But I got inside his room. Yukon Eric was sitting on the edge of the bed with bandages wrapped around his head.  What could I say? All I could think of was, "Humpty-Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall." It was the first thing that came
to mind. He looked up and smiled. I started to laugh. What else could you do?

But the only thing the reporters outside could hear was the sound of my laughter. The next day, the newspapers were filled with stories of me laughing at the sight of Yukon Eric's missing ear. When I walked to the ring the next week, people were throwing bottles at me. "You're nothing but a killer!" someone screamed. From that moment on, I was Killer Kowalski.

I had more than six thousand matches. As I walked into the ring before every one of them, I meditated. I visualized an image of Jesus casting his light over the ring and the crowd.

Someone once threw a pig's ear at me. A woman once came up to me after a match and said, "I'm glad you didn't get hurt." Then she stabbed me in the back with a knife. After a while, I got police escorts to and from the ring.

I've been a vegetarian fifty-three years now. Lots of vitamins. No milk. Little or no cheese.

Here's how I invented the Iron Claw. I would drive between matches with a tennis ball in my lap. I've got the wheel in one hand and I'm squeezing the tennis ball with the other. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Then I'd switch hands. After a couple of months, I had a tremendous grip. I'd put my thumb in the guy's solar plexus, and he'd scream in agony.

People said, "Yeah, but how's the Iron Claw gonna work on Haystack Calhoun?" He was about six hundred pounds. I'll tell you what happened. I got him on his back in the middle of the ring. I'm on my knees, and I put a claw hold on his stomach. I put it on so hard to get through all that blubber that I was screaming. Well, he farted. The fumes were so devastating, I started to pass out. He rolled over, jumped on top of me, and pinned me. It was the best move he had.

A lot of women proposed to me over the years -- from all over the world.  I was in Australia once. A woman said, "Take me with you." I said, "I can't." She said, "Why not?" I said, "You don't fit in my suitcase."

To be a professional wrestler, you've got to be able to talk. I learned by arguing with the radio as I drove between matches. The announcer would say, "It's a beautiful day. Eighty-two degrees." And I'd start screaming back, "Lies! Lies! Lies! Never has the temperature been lower than it is today!" I'd be going at it with the radio all day long.

Classical. Mozart especially.

Of course I can show you how to do it! Is there a steel chair around here?

A sad thing happened to Yukon Eric. He was always on the road. Some guy convinced Yukon Eric's wife to take all his money out of their account and take off. After he found out, he went to the church where they'd been married and committed suicide.

I got married for the first time last year. On June 19. People ask me, "How can you get married now? You're seventy-nine years old. And Theresa will be seventy-eight in September." I say, "What could I do? She told me she was pregnant."

Our honeymoon? We're still on it.

If I had to do it all over again -- I'd be an electrical engineer.
 

This happened in 1967 in Lafayette, Louisiana. Lee Fields bought a bear in the city of Opp, Alabama with a trailer and all. I went by Opp after Dothan TV, picked him up and brought him to Lafayette. I became good friends with the bear who was not trained and did not have a muzzle. He still had his claws and tusks, so you had to be real careful with him. I was the only one that could mess with him and I watered, fed, and bathed him. He had a leather collar on and I could snap a chain on him and take him out of the cage and walk him around.

Bill Golden lived in a house trailer behind the Sports Arena where we wrestled and we kept the bear's trailer behind Bill's trailer. Bill was scared to death of the bear, getting mad when I would take the bear out of his cage. He would say, "Kelly, one of these days that bear is going to get loose and kill someone." 

Anyway, one hot summer day I had the bear out, tied to a telephone poll by the arena giving him a bath with a hose. The bear liked to bathing and letting the cool water run over him. Johnny Long, aka Bob Dalton, came up before I was done and took the hose out of my hand and said, "Let me show you how to give this S.O.B. a bath!" He turned the nozzle to where it was spraying hard and was spraying him in the face. The bear backed up and Bob walked closer.  The bear got a lot of slack in the chain. Bill came out of his trailer just as the bear lunged at Bob. When he hit the end of the chain the old, dry rotted collar broke. The bear was loose and after Bob Dalton. Bill yelled, "I told you this was going to happen".

Bob was heading for Bill's trailer with the bear right behind him. Bill went back in the door and
locked it. Bob couldn't get in so he had to keep running. I took the chain from the post and ran between the bear and Bob, got him stopped and got the chain back on. Its hard telling how far Bob Dalton ran before he realized the bear wasn't behind him. But I can tell you, that fat boy could sure run. The bear never had a chance!!!!

Over the years in the wrestling business and the CAC, there have been so many memorable minutes. Wrestlers of the earlier days loved to pull swerves on each other; 99% were harmless and just fun, even when it was pulled on you. Momentarily you were maybe upset, a little mad and felt silly, but then you realized that a buddy thought enough of you to take all the time to set it up and then you laughed along with everyone else, waiting for your chance to get even. Probably the 3 best ever at ribs were Vic Christy , Antone Ripper Leone, and Ray Stevens. All 3 were close friends of mine and more then once I was involved with their antics. Here are my three favorites.

Vic Christy, when ill and in the motion picture home/hospital in Woodland Hills, CA, called me at home and in a sorrowful voice almost crying asked for me to come and see him.  His request was simple: please bring some REAL apple juice (not the canned stuff but the real stuff from a health food store), because he was craving it and they had none there. Later that day, I bought some six little bottles and went to see him.  As I walked in, Vic yelled, "Shut the door, and give me the juice!" I thought for sure he was not suppose to have it, so I pulled back until he assured me it was OK.  He proceeded to pour a whole bottle into a specimen bottle and called for the nurse. He explained by having company he was now in good spirits and was able to fill the bottle for her.

She looked at it, shook it and exclaimed "Awfully cloudy Mr. Christy!" Vic responded and said "Let me see," grabbed the bottle and said, "Okay, let's run it through again" and drank the whole bottle down.  The nurse ran from the room calling for the doctor and yelling, "He's a mad man". Vic almost fell out of bed laughing and holding his sides. When the doctor came in he just shook his head knowing Vic had got away with another one. Vic passed away only a few weeks later, but into his 80's he loved every minute of life and never missed a CAC luncheon or banquet that he was able to attend. He was respected and loved by his fellow workers, but you knew if you were on a card with him you might be next.

Antone "Ripper" Leone was, more often than not, on the receiving end of a Christy swerve, but was able to pull some good ones also. He, along with two guys from Italy, owned a chain of Pizza parlors in Southern California called "Chico's Pizza." He lived above the one in South Gate and that is were we all regularly went for a good meal and some fun. Ripper never charged the boys when they in, even if they brought their families (everybody knew, though, to not show up more then once a month for a freebee). Gory Guerrero and I were co-promoting shows with Antone in the early 80's, and some of the wrestlers were taking advantage of the free meals. One night we all went there after hours and our show in Anaheim, so Ripper had the guys he was not too happy with sit at a certain table and the rest at his own table. He said he had called ahead and ordered his signature pizza's for everyone and beer.

We noticed the guys not sitting with us had a special pizza with lots of everything on it and some large chunks of meat that were not on ours, they scarfed it down and asked for more. Antone was ready, and instantly came out with two more large pizza's, but with no meat evident. The guys complained and asked for ones with meat, Antone happily responded that since they liked it so much, they could have all the meat they wanted and the waiter brought out 4 warmed cans of ALPO dog food. Antone told them that when they learned to say, "Thank you," they would get pepperoni.  Gory and I ate there regularly, making sure that we said thank you and knew what we were eating, until he sold out and moved out of state.

Ray Stevens....  I'm sure that Nick can tell a lot on this guy also, probably one of the ten best ever to put on tights. He was a pilot, a true cowboy with rodeo experience and the first to do moves that today have made super stars. Ray loved to laugh and could laugh at himself as well as at or with you. His driving was only equaled by Harley Race with both had a huge collection of traffic tickets. He told me that one time, at a show in Sacramento, he and a pal went and took the license plates off of several of the boys' cars and put them on cars parked in "No Parking" zones and then before the show ended put them back on the right cars with the tickets on the windshield. About 5 or 6 of the guys complained to the promoters about getting parking tickets, he called the police chief who came down and asked why they get a ticket parked in their own lot.  He called the patrolman who wrote the tickets to com and explain why all the plate numbers were right but the make of the car did not match up. By this time the fans who really got the tickets had left, and the wrestlers knew someone had set them up and that it could only be Ray. Of course, Stevens denied it with a passion. The chief tore up the tickets and told the poor cop to be more astute in the future.

Ray said he never did admit to it, because it was a private joke between he and his buddy, Jay "The Alaskan" York. The week that Ray died from a heart attack he was due to spend a week here at our ranch in Rolla MO. When Therese called me with news, it was one of the saddest days ever. Ray was a man's man, a wrestler's wrestler and a friend's friend.  Truly one of a kind.

"The Boys" used to really enjoy the business and the friendships that were life-long. I have been privileged to know so many like that.
 

Remembering Wrestling’s Past Greats with George Schire

Fans that followed Texas wrestling in the late 1960’s and in the AWA thrilled to the always popular Wahoo McDaniel. He hailed from Midland, TX and graduated from Midland High School.  While attending the University of Oklahoma his feats as a linebacker in football gained him fame. Football contracts were offered upon his graduation but Wahoo wanted only to wrestle which was his first and foremost love.

McDaniel did; however, play professional football for several of the top teams in the country. In 1960 he played for the San Diego Chargers and the Houston Oilers. From 1961 to 1963 he played for the Denver Broncos, in 1964 and 1965 he went with the New York Jets and in 1966 the Miami Dolphins received Wahoo in the expansion draft from the Jets.

In 1966, wrestling saw Wahoo join forces with his long-time friend, Jose Lothario, to capture a tag team championship from Sputnik and Rocket Monroe, and later in the year the popular Indian and his Mexican partner were forced to give up the crown when Wahoo had signed to play football with the Dolphins and Jose Lothario was injured. After this incident, McDaniel gave up football for wrestling.

When he hit Texas, he quickly became the state’s most popular wrestler and he proved to be a main eventer. After racking up a 35-match string of victories, he received his well-deserved chance at the National Wrestling Alliance (NWA) World Heavyweight Champion, Dory Funk, Jr. Though he didn’t win the belt in that match, there was no doubt that fans believed he could have. They were solidly behind him in his effort tot unseat the champion.

After seven months of wrestling in the Lone Star State, McDaniel was still undefeated and he met two of the game’s top stars in Apache Bull Ramos and the Mongolian Stomper (Archie Gouldie), which fans learned was only the beginning. As time went on, Wahoo formed a very successful team with the masked sensation Mil Mascaras of Mexico. The night they met Killer Karl Kox and Boris Malenko with the American tag team title at stake is still considered one of the wildest battles ever staged in Texas rings.

Malenko had a donnybrook feud with Wahoo in singles matches and their matches are fondly talked about to this day by long-time fans, wrestlers and promoters. Another regular opponent and enemy in the ring of McDaniel was blond bomber Johnny Valentine of Seattle, WA. They, too, had a bloody riot after every match they worked. Others to face defeat at the hands of the popular Indian star were Baron Scicluna and Killer Karl Kox. Veteran giant Killer Kowalski entered Texas at about this time and the first order of business was to have him face McDaniel. Kowalski had won the Brass Knuckles trophy and defended it against Wahoo in a torrid no-contest decision. As their feud raged on, Kowalski was joined in his war with McDaniel by his other nemesis, Boris Malenko. This forced Wahoo to again seek a partner and he got the best in Fritz Von Erich.

McDaniel was so popular in Houston that fans started a petition to get him another match with NWA Champ Dory Funk, Jr. When he did eventually meet Dory, the camp’s younger brother, Terry Funk, interfered in the bout causing Dory to be disqualified, thus retaining the championship. From this bout, though, a feud was waged between Wahoo and any of the Funk family clan. Even daddy Funk, Dory, Sr., took his turn attempting to halt the winning ways of McDaniel.

Besides all of the above-mentioned grapplers, Wahoo also took the measure over ring notables like Professor Tanaka, Thunderbolt Patterson, Mike “The Alaskan” York and Stan Stasiak. He also tried, with several partners, to unseat the unholy team of Chris Markoff and Bronko Lubich and their infamous manager, George Harris. Wahoo even joined forces with rival Johnny Valentine in one such effort to dethrone the tag champs.

In the early 1970’s, Wahoo found his way to the AWA, and battled the likes of Larry Hennig, Lars Anderson, Dusty Rhodes, Dick Murdoch and Blackjack Lanza. He also battled the AWA World Tag Team Champs, Nick Bockwinkel and Ray Stevens with top-flight partners like Red Bastien, Billy Robinson, Crusher Lisowski, Cowboy Bill Watts and even AWA Champ Verne Gagne. To AWA fans, Wahoo was always a hero they could count on.

Wahoo’s battles with Greg Valentine and the legendary Ric Flair are considered classics. If you should talk to fans in Florida, Atlanta or any other major wrestling territory that Wahoo McDaniel ventured to, they always thrilled to his wild, all-out style and will have a story to tell about the great Indian grappler.

When his wrestling days were over, McDaniel remained one of the sport’s most popular figures at conventions around the country. Sadly, Wahoo passed away a few years ago, but his memory will live on forever in the minds of all those he thrilled during his colorful and celebrated career.
 

CAC Trivia Time!

Last week we played CAC trivia.  Here are the answers:

1. Specifically related to the CAC, what do the following four men have in common?
    Buddy Rogers, Fred Blassie, Gene Kiniski, Killer Kowalski
ANSWER: These four men have been documented to have each beaten all four wrestling CAC Presidents (Mike Mazurki, Lou Thesz, Red Bastien, Nick Bockwinkel).

2. Of those four, what unique distinction does Fred Blassie have?
ANSWER: Fred Blassie also holds a win over the 5th CAC President, Archie Moore.  (October 23, 1964, Olympic Auditorium, Handicap Match, Fred Blassie beat Cowboy Bob Ellis & Archie Moore).

3. There is a Cauliflower Alley Club song.  Recite the lyrics.  (Tie breaker/Extra credit if you make an audio file of you singing the lyrics and submit it!)
ANSWER:
Bless us all..... Bless us all...
The heavy, the light and the small.
Bless our flat noses and cauliflowered ears,
For we are the ones whom
They stood up and cheered.
Now we're saying, 'So long' to us all,
The long, the short and the tall.
May God keep us busy,
We'll see you next Wednesday;
Stay cheered, guys and dolls,
Bless us all.

4. In the modern/recorded history of the Club, one person has been honored more than any other.  Who is that person and how many times has he/she been recognized?
ANSWER: Danny Hodge.  1992 - Special Presentation, 1998 - Wrestler Award, 2004 - Art Abrams Lifetime Achievement Award, 2007 - Lou Thesz Award

5. Name the future wrestler in the following photographs:

ANSWER: Leo Garibaldi

A few years ago, I was reffin a main event in a small town in North Carolina where 150+ fans witnessed not just an exciting match, but also a near career ending match for yours truly. The match featured CAC member Garry "MADD TRUCKER" Stevens who, for some reason or another, always goes ballistic if things don't go his way. Anyone in the ring suffers the consequences and, as it turned out, Stevens attacked me at the end of the match because he didn't win.

I was standing in the corner arguing with another ref that saw something I didn't when I counted three. As I turned around to raise the winner's hand, Stevens caught me with a perfectly executed power bomb. He grabbed me, flipped me upside down (at this time I we hanging on for dear life) and, when he started to go down, I used my right hand and reach for the mat.....DUMB MOVE! Of course that threw my right shoulder up in the air. Stevens was grabbing me anyway he could to protect me from injury. When we hit the mat, Stevens felt my shoulder and immediately got up knowing that my shoulder was dislocated. He then came off the rope with a billy club and pouned my chest while asking me if I was okay.

Now, beforehand he told me that once this went down I was to not move at all or he would kill me for real. So I laid in the ring without moving. Stevens whipered, "You SOB! Answer me." I opened my eye and winked at him and said ,"This is fun!" Once again, DUMB MOVE! He went of the deep end again until finally several wrestlers and security came to the ring. Annette, my wife, who always worked concessions and NEVER got involved in the matches, came running out to the ring (while in the concession area she rubbed onions for the hotdogs in her eyes) and was screaming (not out of concern for me, but because of the onions in her eyes) and "crying" for them to help me. 

You could hear the crowd just mumbling. Fans had came down to the ring to witness firsthand something went wrong that night.  They bought this angle hook, line and sinker. The security supervisor went to a gimmick table and took all the gimmicks off of it and brought the table to the side of the ring.  Meanwhile, I was thinking, they gonna slide me off this ring down to the floor this is gonna hurt! But, as it turned out, the table with the legs unfolded was even with the ring and they slowly slid me of the ring on to the table. The carried me to the back and Annette stayed right by my side all the way into the locker room. Stevens's wife took over the concession job until everyone left that night.

Several of the fans stayed around waiting to see if I would appear. I never did. I was not even in the building. I was sitting out front in a conversion van in the back seat with Annette watching the crowd as they left. We even let some of the fans go in the locker room (we had heel and baby locker rooms) to let them meet some wrestlers but at the same time let them realize I was not there; that I had been rushed to the hospital. The next day the local fans were a buzz on the internet. We had taken a copy of an x-ray showing a collapsed lung, doctored it up with the local hospital call letters and had made a big deal about how Morgan Dollar was at the hospital. I "authorized" the hospital to release the x-ray so the fans would know this was a legit deal. Even workers that weren't at the show were calling Stevens and several other people wanting to know if he really done that to me. We played it up with the fans for a month and the workers for a couple of weeks. I told Garry Stevens, "That's the way it used to be!" That episode made the MADD TRUCKER that much more of heel.

The building we was renting had no time limit on what time we had to be out. So after all the fans had left that night we went back in the building and Annette and Trucker's wife fixed country ham, gravy, eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and we had coffee, orange juice & soda.  About ten workers stayed over that night and it was 3 in the morning before we left the building.

So many times the boys have came back into the locker-room after their match and said, "That crowd is dead!" Stevens would look at them and simply ask, "Ya think? How come?" They didn't know! Stevens would respond, Well, we'll see when I go out." Sure enough, when he went out he pissed the fans off as soon as he walked through the curtains. He had them cussing till the end. When he got back to the locker-room the boys would say, "I cant understand that!" Garry would try to keep his cool and tell them, "Learn the business! If the crowd is dead, its your fault." You would be surprised that some of the young talent finally realized what Stevens was saying and then you never heard them say "the crowd was dead". But you did hear them say, "Man that crowd is popping tonight!"

ENCOUNTER WITH A MASKED MAN

I had just turned 13 years old and was attending my first wrestling card at the Holyoke Valley Arena in Holyoke, Massachusetts, December 27,1959.

Intermission came and I had to take wicked release of a full bladder. Not knowing the venue too well. I saw the sign, “Men’s Room” and just as I was about to enter I heard my name being called. A school friend was there. I waved and then darted into the room. However, I missed the men's room and ended up in the dressing room. A rather large man was on a bench wearing a mask. He looked at me and yelled, "Get the hell out of here kid!" With that warning and a flying boot, I ran out and, well, my bladder released from fear. Years later I would tell that story to the masked man, The Zebra Kid when I met him in another dressing room in Colonge, Germany in 1967. He laughed and bought me a beer after the match.

WORKING A WORKER AT A FLEA MARKET

Three times a year the small town of Brimfield in western Massachusetts becomes the largest Flea Market in North America. I go every year and am able to find some wrestling odds and ends now and then and other items that interest me.

A few years ago I spotted a pile of old Ring Magazines. The year was 1955 - a complete set. Ring Magazine would be 60 pages with 4 pages on wrestling. I was looking at the magazines and scanning the wrestling sections making mental notes. When I got to the month of May the dealer says to me, "This is not a public library."

I looked up and him and said, with a straight face, “Sir, my aunt and uncle were professional wrestlers and if they are mentioned in any of these magazines I would purchase the complete set.” (Asking price listed at $150).

He looked at me and asked who my aunt and uncle were, to which I responded, “My aunt wrestled as Kay Fabian and my uncle wrestled under a mask as The Great Mezark.”

He looked at me and replied, "Yeah, I heard of them. Maybe they will be in one of those issues. Keep looking." I thanked him and continued to scan the pages of those issues of Ring magazine.

RIDING WITH BULL

I used to drive Bull Curry to various cards when fellow CAC member, Walter "Killer" Kowalski was running in New England. Walter was running a card in Lowell, MA and Bull and I drove up to the town.

We get there and as Bull and I were walking into the building a woman said, "Bull Curry, I thought you died." Bull looked at her and said, "Lady, you look like death walked all over you."

Around 1956, as in most territories, the Southern California territory ran the same towns each week. San Diego was every Tuesday. Well, Vic and Ted Christy were part of the crew and were living in Woodland Hills, in the San Fernando Valley, about 135 miles from San Diego.

This one particular Tuesday, Ted was booked to work the 3rd match and Vic had the night off. Ted had only been gone from Woodland Hills on the way to San Diego for about 10 minutes when the phone rang and the office asked Vic to make the first match because one of the boys couldn’t work.

Now, instead of going the usual way, Vic decided to take an alternate route and he hustled to get to the arena before Ted. Vic got to town, went to the dressing room and told the rest of the boys to make sure that Ted didn’t know he was there and to keep Ted busy during his (Vic’s) opening match. Vic went to the a secluded area to get dressed, worked the opening match and then went to the front of the house until Ted’s match started. While Ted was wrestling, Vic showered, dressed and left for home.

When Ted made it back to the dressing room, all the boys started talking about Vic’s match and how good it was to see him. Ted thought the boys were losing it and reminded them that Vic wasn’t on the card that night. They continued to insist he was there, so, on his way home, Ted drove by his mother’s house where Vic lived to find Vic’s car in the garage. Vic had the car washed when he got home, so even the engine was cool. Ted asked their mother about it and she insisted that Vic had been home all night.

Finally, Thursday night, in Bakersfield, the group let Ted in on the fact that he had been, like so many others, on the receiving end of a Vic Christy rib.
 

Remembering Wrestling’s Past Greats with George Schire

They joined together for the first time as a tag team combination on October 11, 1959 in Indianapolis against Ray and Roy Shire. They lost! In their second match in Boston on October 24, 1959, they battled Verne Gagne & Wilbur Snyder. They won! Then on February 18, 1960, they again lost to the Shire brothers.

It wasn’t until August 20, 1963 in Minneapolis that Bruiser & Crusher would become one of the most beloved tag teams in wrestling and also one of the all time top money making combinations in history. Billed as “cousins,” they won the American Wrestling Association (AWA) World Tag Team Championship from the hated Russians, Ivan and Karol Kalmikoff. It was the first of twelve championships they would capture for their fans.

Dick “The Bruiser” Afflis entered the professional wrestling ranks in 1954, and quickly carved out a reputation as a ring bully. He was known for his brute strength and all out style that was equal to no one else in the business. Dick was barred from several territories in the country because of the destruction he caused in many of the arenas he wrestled in. And, he received a suspension in New York in 1957 that was never lifted. Promoters were always assured of a packed house when “The Bruiser” was on their cards. He met the best of the best for nearly four decades, earning billing as “the World’s Most Dangerous Wrestler.”

Reggie “The Crusher” Lisowski was active for most of the 1950’s as a top draw in the Midwest and the East Coast. He became a tag team partner to veteran Art Neilson in 1954, and they quickly gained recognition as champions by many promoters. After Reggie’s stint with Neilson, he hooked up with Stan Holek and they wrestled as “brothers” Reggie and Stan Lisowski for several years. They, too, gained title recognition in most of the territories in which they competed.

But, when “The Bruiser” joined “The Crusher” and billed themselves as look-alike “cousins,” they became one of t he most in-demand tag teams in wrestling history. Promoters would constantly try to sign them for their cards, but their individual schedules often prevented them from appearing together. Nonetheless, Bruiser & Crusher managed to wrestle as a tag team, on and off, from 1959 until 1985.

They would stomp, punch, kick and maul other tag teams and the fans loved every match! Their feuds with teams such as the Kalmikoffs, Larry Hennig and Harley Race, Mad Dog and Butcher Vachon, The Blackjacks (Lanza and Mulligan) and the Dillinger Chain Gang are still talked about and remembered today when fans, fellow wrestlers or promoters discuss the great tag teams of the past.

Bruiser & Crusher won the AWA World Tag Team Title on five different occasions and had six runs with the World Wrestling Alliance (WWA) Championship. They also won the International Tag Team Title in Japan in 1969.

Together as a team, their results record is lopsided with 143 victories and only 59 losses. Another 29 of their battles ended in either a draw or a no-contest. These outstanding numbers attest to the greatness of this rugged combination.

Bruiser & Crusher have now both passed on to the “big ring in the sky,” but live on in the hearts of all who loved them as, arguably, wrestling’s all-time greatest tag team combination.

On Wednesday, July 4, I set up a wrestling ring on the back of a flatbed trailer to participate in the local Independence Day Parade. It was a lot of hard work but I do believe that everyone enjoyed the results. Two Indy pro wrestlers; one, my son, Kurt, the other a very good friend of Kurt’s, Andy Fish from Brooklyn, MI drove here just for the show. The two young boys that are going to Japan with me, Garrett Schultz from our home town of Akron and the other boy is Nick Tighe from down near Syracuse, NY (who also went with me last year for the All Japan Kids tournament) and several of the high school wrestlers from our high school here in Akron, NY along with their coach.

The two pros put on an exhibit, then the two young boys had a match, followed by the high school boys doing a match or two. We had a high school wrestling official in the ring and a fellow dressed in a Bear outfit. So it was quite a show. The young boys walked the crowd and collected tips for their trip to Japan during the parade and did pretty well.

At 10:00 am the morning of the 4th, there was a Bed Race held on Main St. in the village of Akron, in which I had two teams entered. One was the young wrestlers and the other was my swim team. The Swim team took 2nd place – not sure where the young wrestlers ended up but a fun time was had by all.

The All Japan Kids tournament is 10, 11, & 12 of August, they will leave on the 5th and have a couple Cultural Exch