Rufus vs. Angus

Almost four decades ago, on March 23, 1972, one of the most devastating nights in the weekly series of wrestling matches on Thursday evenings took place at Memorial Hall in Kansas City, Kansas.

It was billed as a night of return grudge matches as three out of five were, in fact, that. Fans were furious that a clear cut victory had not been had in these events, but, then again, Kansas City was famous for battles that never ended for one reason or another. That is why every Thursday night was a sellout in the 4,000-plus seat Memorial Hall.

Another reason fans flocked there was to be seen during the television tapings done there by Channel 41. Some of those blowhard dummies thought they were the stars of the show and bought season tickets so they could be seen in the rebroadcasts.

Promoter Gust Karras continued with an endless supply of talent, and it was sometimes hard juggling my schedule to be there, but I did it for Angus and some of the others that I managed.

Just the week before, Angus had met and beaten almost the biggest crybaby in the Central States territory, Rufus R. Jones. We left him in a crumpled up mess in the middle of the ring. Big Ears Moody, the referee, had given us a disqualification for the match as he called the ending too violent and uncalled for.

He claimed outside interference by me, but I had not laid a hand on Gust Karras' 278-pound office boy. In fact, I tried to get Rufus to his feet after Moody had slipped and fallen out through the ring ropes and hit the deck. Angus held up the flat-headed bully, and I proceeded to pound the stuffings out of Jones until Karras sent in four of the six goons he carried with him into the ring.

Arriving at the hall, we were met by fans pelting my new Cadillac with mud and snow from the ground. It was so bad that I returned to the police parking lot, where I convinced two officers that I feared for my life and asked to be escorted back to the arena. This time, we made it to our parking area in the rear of the building and the safety of a guard.

Fans were lined up all around the building in anticipation of a great night of Professional Wrestling. We entered and went directly to our dressing rooms to get ready for promos.

At 8 p.m., the bell rang, and the evening started with an Australian Tag match. One side had Steve Bolus & Terry Martin, who had both met some of the best talent in the Central States. They faced Fearless Frank Diamond and Black Jack Black, one of my men. I went to the ring in another of my resplendent outfits. It was an orange jacket with a purple silk shirt and a pale blue tie with green slacks. I also had my specially-made Tony Lama Dingo boots on with the steel toes and heels.

The match went the entire 30-minute limit as Diamond spent a lot of the time tied up in the other corner trying to be a punching bag for Martin and Bolus. If only "Blackie" had gotten his hands on that team again, they wouldn't have been so lucky.

The second match featured one of South America's great athletes in Benji Rameriz. Benji had begun his North American career in Texas, where he was known as "The Mummy". He had to unmask after losing to Dory Funk Sr. in one of the bloodiest bouts ever seen in Amarillo. Benji was facing former Central States champ Omar Atlas. They had met a few weeks before, and there was not a winner. Atlas asked for the re-match.

Atlas had been a thorn in my side for a few years, but, now, it was a different story. He was facing one of the best that the Kansas City territory had witnessed. Omar was very lucky to get a win over Rameriz with a huge airplane spin and cover.

Bout three was a real barn burner as it contained two of the most hated men in the entire Midwest, reaching all the way out to Seattle and as far south as San Diego. Bob Orton, Sr. was just like a “Rattlesnake.” You just didn't know when to trust the guy in the ring, or on the street, for that matter.

He had grabbed the Viking from behind after the match ended in a draw and clobbered him to the mat. Then, he picked him up in a Piledriver and then delivered a second one , leaving him in a bloody mess in the middle of the ring. It was then that he grabbed ring announcer Bill Kersten and took the mike from his hands and told the sellout crowd that the Viking is a word you would not hear about any more in Kansas City.

Orton went on to claim that he never heard the bell sound off, ending the time limit. It was at that time that Promoter Gust Karras got up from his seat and grabbed the house mike and declared that Orton would pay for his actions. Orton began to laugh at Karras, asking who he thought was tough enough to meet him in the ring. They finally cleared the ring, and it took a riot squad to get Orton back to his dressing room. They carried Viking out on a stretcher.

Viking was the second to come to the ring as Orton was inside glaring at everybody and shouting at Karras to bring that broken down excuse for a wrestler to the ring for another beating. Viking burst through the doors of his dressing room area and had a neck brace on. He was cheered by fans going to the ring, something that he was not used to.

When he got to the ring, he stood by Karras and the six goons flanking his back and took the mike and announced that the commission doctor did not want him to wrestle that night because of the injury that Orton had given him the week before. Orton began to laugh out loud at the whole thing and dared the Viking to get into the ring.

Heated words were exchanged between the two, and, suddenly, Viking grabbed the neck brace and tore it from his body and threw off his warm up jacket and jumped through the ropes. Orton, no dummy in his own mind, exited out the other side of the ring and began to point to his temple showing the riotous fans that he had, in fact, outsmarted this dummy, big time.

To be continued ...

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers

2003 BWC Hall of Fame Inductee
2004 CAC Hall of Fame Inductee
2006 LWA Hall of Fame Inductee
2007 TCCW Hall of Fame Honoree