Wrestling At The Chase (eBook)

HOOKED ------------------------------- In the beginning, there was this tiny brown box enclosing a thick glass screen. It was the phenomenon of the time - a television! Shadowy, black-and-white figures moved about. One ghostly character had curled white hair and was tossing something from within a squared area surrounded by ropes. A strong voice from inside the box barked, 'It's the famous Gorgeous George throwing golden bobby pins to the crowd.' Another body, this individual nothing less than a titan, jumped between the ropes. He was lean, hard, dark, handsome, powerful. A warrior king. The voice from the box was awed: 'There is the great Lou Thesz, being saluted by the fans.' Suddenly action detonated - Thesz and Gorgeous George began flying from corner to corner in a savage ballet. The crowd roared, screamed, howled, exploded. That little box literally shook and pulsed - I sat transfixed by the spectacle. Man, I was hooked. Immediately. A seven-year-old addict. A wrestling junkie. That was the first St. Louis wrestling show I remember. It was televised on Channel 5 from the St. Louis House. Did the little boy I was then have any idea that this crazy business, or sport, or whatever it is, would dominate his professional life forever? Twenty-six years later, on August 8, 1980, I was the ring announcer at steaming Kiel Auditorium when David Von Erich, a Huckleberry Finn in tights, won the 'battle of the claws' against Baron Von Raschke, whose face and bald dome contorted like a stretchy rubber mask. That packed crowd rumbled and thundered so loudly that my brain rattled inside my skull. Then, to the squared circle came the special referee for the next match. It was none other than Lou Thesz, the idol of my innocent youth. He moved close, grabbed my forearm with his right hand, and held out his left hand palm up. 'Isn't it great when you have them right in the palm of your hand?' whispered the greatest champion in wrestling history. 'You helped build this. And it's the most satisfying, exciting feeling in the world.' And now, some 49 years after my first introduction, as I struggle to explain why this magical, bizarre, heart-breaking, exhilarating sport still has me in its claw, I cannot help but think of Thesz's words. Like that moment in 1954 when I really thought the television was alive, other memories pop up from the warm haze of childhood: a poster on which Verne Gagne was pictured demonstrating basic holds and maneuvers, a television show called 'Texas 'Rassling with Vess Box,' a colorful magazine entitled Wrestling Revue. When 'Wrestling at the Chase' burst onto the scene on May 23, 1959 - what a moment! Here was Joe Garagiola, an established baseball personality, joking and describing the actions of Rip Hawk, Bob Orton, and 'Whipper' Billy Watson. And there I was, ready and eager to feed my passion for the spectacle. I started keeping detailed records of what happened every week in journals that even today make me smile. Back then it was a simple joy for me to write stories about baseball, basketball, and football. I dreamed of becoming a sportswriter or of somehow being involved in wrestling. Obviously, nobody was about to hire a junior high kid with a flat top to cover the Cardinals or write for The porting News. So, the path of least resistance and most opportunity seemed to be sending a story to Ring magazine. I must have sensed that Ring's wrestling section took contributions from unknown sources. The subject was a Texas 'death match' between Watson and Gene Kiniski on March 4, 1960, at Kiel Auditorium.