Sedalia, MO

This week’s column brings back to mind a very cagey and wily veteran of the ring wars by the name of The Viking. His given name at birth was Robert Morse, but he chose the character of The Viking because of his Norwegian ancestry.

Bob, as we knew him, was an extremely funny guy away from the ring but was a terror in the squared circle. He was equally as vociferous on the mike as I was, and I sometimes had a hard time keeping up with his superlative adjectives he spewed while commenting on upcoming matches.

He developed a persona in the ring that left him neither a rough nor a clean-cut image. He fit both images very well because of the way he presented himself both in and out of the ring. He could outwrestle a lot of his foes and sometimes found himself teaching new recruits in the business.

Promoter Gust Karras, in one of his better moods, thought it would be a challenge to put Angus against somebody besides the pretty boy wannabe's he had been facing in Sedalia, Missouri.

The small town in Central Missouri was one of the first towns that Gust wrestled in as a young man in the 1930's, and he never forgot the fans that supported him. When he started promoting, it was one town that he ran religiously every Tuesday night. He always had top talent in the matches and always sent the customers home happy and satisfied.

The Viking had been wrestling in the Central States for over a decade when Angus and I arrived from a triumphant tour of the Canadian provinces. Viking had beaten many of the top men in the sport, including Sonny Myers ... Ronnie Etchison ... Bob Geigel ... Danny Littlebear ... Bob Brown and a lot of others. He held many regional championships, including Tag Team honors, but he preferred to settle his business in the ring by himself rather then rely on a partner.

Viking entered the ring with a heavy layer of tape on his right thumb. Referees constantly asked him about the tape, and he always replied that it was an old fishing injury that he sustained as a youth. He would use that thumb just like one would use a billy club to subdue foes if the going got tough for him. He would jab you in the throat and nearly drive your Adam's apple into the back of your neck.

Angus, on the other hand, as I have told you before, relied on brute force and the uncanny manager he had at ringside to assist him. Angus had an array of devastating moves that helped him to win matches. He could get down on the mat with the best that any promoter had to offer, but the Viking would prove to be our toughest opponent yet.

Tuesday evening, at just a little past 7 p.m., we arrived at the complex, parked next to a huge Royal Blue Chrysler Imperial that had a plate that read RM1. The car belonged to The Viking, and it was one of three that he owned. Fans in Sedalia had been in anticipation of this evening as much as we were. When signing the contracts for this match, I was a little hesitant to place Angus into a situation where he would be embarrassed by a loss to a smaller man. Viking was not a little man by any means ... he stood six feet and weighed about 245 at the time of the match.

Local fans had stopped Angus as we entered the building and were shouting at him, as usual, about facing his toughest match yet. One guy even had a silly-looking set of bull horns on his head that looked like the pair the Viking wore to the ring. I could see at a distance the figure of the Viking standing at the concession stand getting himself a free coffee from somebody; he was always stiffing somebody. It was as if he had fishhooks in his front pockets when it came time to buy something.

We began our day with a warm-up session that included situps ... pushups ... deep knee bends ... And isometrics that warmed up our bodies to where we wouldn't get hurt too bad in the ring. I even had the pleasure of getting into the warm up with Angus, which was rare indeed, as I relied on brain rather than brawn to win matches.

The opening matches had a new kid from North Carolina by the name of Rick McGraw facing Yasu Fuji. They battled to a 15-minute draw that left the fans wanting to see more of this new kid. I could tell by looking at him that he was going places in the business.

Steve Bolus faced Black Jack Earl Black in the second match, and, in 22 minutes, he handed him a defeat, using a combination of holds and a body press to win the match.

Big Ron Bass faced Rufus R. Jones in the semi-main event, and both men could not be contained in the ring. Even referee Ronnie Etchison, with his ring expertise and strength, couldn't contain these two giants. The match ended up with both men being counted out when they battled outside the building and into the parking lot.

I was called over by the commissioner just prior to going to the ring and advised that if I injected myself into the match coming up that I would face a severe fine and possible suspension. I looked over at the corner of the office area, and there sat Gust Karras with a smug look on his face, as if he were a cat that had just swallowed a huge canary. I assured the commissioner that I was a gentleman and would not place myself on his level and lower my standards of living. He was not happy about my comment but did not choose to get into a battle of wits with me.

We proceeded to the ring and the sold-out crowd of over 2,500 fans that were in attendance. It took four officers of the Sedalia police department to clear the aisle way to get us to the ring. As usual, I was dressed in one of the many beautiful outfits that I owned. It consisted of a red sport coat with a light blue silk shirt, a pair of Kelly green slacks, and red, white and blue Dingo boots that I had special made with steel toes. I carried my briefcase at my side, and I also wore my Scottish Tam on my head. Oh, did I mention the beautiful multi-flowered orange and purple tie I had on? … It was a gift from an adoring fan.

As Ronnie Etchison was giving the instructions, I was as concerned as I could be. I looked at the Viking, and he had a different look in his eyes that I had never seen. His entire focus was on me and not on Angus. It was as if his intent was hurting me and forgetting about the wrestling match with Angus. We extended our hand to Viking as a gesture of friendship, and it was then that he threw off his Nordic helmet and tossed his jacket at the ring announcer’s table and came right at me. He grabbed me by the jacket lapels and started in punching me unmercifully.

The referee called for the bell, and Angus tried to pull Viking off me. I tried to get away from this madman. I pleaded with him to release me; I don't know what had come over him. I just couldn't understand what a few words said on local television and radio could have meant so much to him. I guess he just had no sense of humor when it came to name-calling.

To be continued…

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers
2004 CAC Honoree