Gentleman Jim Hady

The years of 1950 thru 1960 were terrific as far as Wrestling in the Midwest. Superstars that met every Wednesday and Saturday at the Marigold Arena in Chicago were also booked in great wrestling towns like Green Bay, Wisconsin … Indianapolis, Indiana … Detroit, Michigan ... Columbus, Ohio … Cincinnati, Ohio … Milwaukee, Wisconsin ... Flint, Michigan ... Elkhart, Indiana ... St. Louis, Missouri and many other great cities in the Midwest.

Their names were household words spoken at almost every dinner table with reverence. Mr. Moto ... Chief Don Eagle ... Hans Schmidt ... Moose Cholak ... Bobo Brazil ... Larry Chene ... Nickoli Volkoff ... Louie Klein ... The Bavarian Boys ... Yukon Eric ... Killer Kowalski and Jim Hady were just a few that graced our TV screens every week from the old Chicago Amphitheater.

More exciting then seeing our favorites and not so favorites was to go to the Flint Arena on N. Saginaw Street on Saturday night and watch those same TV stars thru a glaze of smoke and an odor of sweat. Back then, people were allowed to smoke anywhere in the hot building, and drinks were served in glass bottles, whether it be soft drinks or beer.

One Saturday night that I can remember is when Jim Hady, known as Gentleman Jim Hady to the fans, faced The Crusher (not the one from Milwaukee). When the Crusher walked by you and stared at you from beneath that black mask ... those glaring eyes were enough to scare the begeebers out of you. He had been on a winning streak since coming to the Flint Arena some two years before.

This particular Saturday night, my uncle Don and his son Jr. and I were getting an ice cream cone at the Bokay Ice Cream Parlor next to the arena. The front door swung open, and a huge man with a neck bigger then his head came forward and placed his order. I had never met Jim Hady ... just seen him on TV. He must have seen me staring at him, because he asked, "Do you know me?" I answered, "No sir ... but I am going with my uncle and my cousin to the wrestling matches next door. We’re gonna watch Jim Hady ... The World's Junior Heavyweight Champ ... tonight beat that old Crusher and take off his mask.”

Jim just kind of snickered and stuck out his hand, shook mine and said, “I'M JIM HADY, kid ... and I will try and do just that for you guys.” He got his three-dip ice cream cone, picked up his gym bag that he had his gear in, and left. I couldn't believe that I had just shook hands with the champ ... my eyes followed him out of the building, and my train of thought was broken by the lady saying, “Here is YOUR cone, honey.” We quickly finished up our ice creams and went next door.

I watched men like Johnny Gates, Steve Zold, Martino Angelo, Dick "Mr. Michigan" Garza, Pepper Martin and Gino Brito wrestle in the opening matches. The main event was last. Jim Hady came up the stairs from his dressing room, wearing a black sweater, black tights and black boots. He entered the arena with all the cheers the fans could muster up. He was well loved by all.

The Crusher, the huge 275-pound masked monster, came up from the opposite side of the arena basement and was met with boos and calls of profanity. He was definitely not a fan favorite. He had beaten the very best that promoter Leo Donoghue had brought to the arena.

The match went the entire one-hour time limit with neither man gaining a fall. Jim Hady wanted five more minutes with the huge masked man ... but he never got it that night. They had been spent to their limits and exerted every ounce of energy in their bodies. Dropkicks ... flying head scissors ... bodyslams and huge bear hugs couldn't drop either man for a three-count or make him submit. There wasn't any slowing down in that match until the bell rang at the one-hour limit.

They came back the next week and, almost like that night, with one fall apiece, neither man could beat each other in hand-to-hand combat. It was as if the immovable object was meeting the irresistible force. Both men were tremendous drawing cards for the Flint Arena.

A short time after I entered the profession, I was on a card at the Honolulu H.I.C., and Jim was there. He came over, shook my hand and asked if I was still eating those Bokay Ice Creams as he pushed his index finger into my belly, laughing.

On January 13, 1969 Jim Hady died of a massive Heart Attack, at a young age of just 38 years. He was one of the true GOOD GUYS of the wrestling profession that I admired and looked up to ... and I miss him to this day.

Rest in Peace Gentleman Jim.

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