Downs, Kansas

In the summer months during the 1972 season in Kansas, we were asked to go to places like Liberal, El Dorado, Hutchinson, Hugoton, Garden City, and other out of the way places like Downs, which was 300 miles from Kansas City one way.

I usually did not mind the long trips, as the speed limit was 70 back then, and you could get away with 75 or 80 when there was no traffic.

I left Kansas City at 1:30 and headed west on I-70 towards Topeka. The miles seemed to just pass on by as I had three of the best travelers any one could ever ask for. Black Angus, who always took the passenger seat and kept me awake with his constant snoring, Roger Kirby and Juan Sebastian shared the rear seat of my new Cadillac.

As I approached Salina, I knew that I had to turn on Kansas 81 and head north to Highway 24 West to get to Downs. Finding the arena was very easy, as it was the largest building in the small community that was just 40 miles south of the Nebraska line and about 200 miles east of Colorado.

The arena was an old converted theater that had the ring set up on the wooden vaudeville stage. Ringside chairs had been set up around the three sides facing the front of the auditorium.

My train of thought was startled by the entrance of the local yokel (police chief) who had gone to the tavern to get his nerves calmed down from all the activity going on in Downs like jaywalkers and people spitting on the dirt sidewalks.

Promoter Gust Karras, who had come from St. Joseph with Ronnie Etchison, threw the chief out of the building, as he was in no shape to do anything but sleep one off. That left us with one other officer that was not on duty guarding the yard.

This town must have been so poor with budgeting that the other cop didn't even have a uniform to wear on duty. He was dressed in blue jeans and wearing a plaid shirt and a dirty old cowboy hat .

We went to the dressing rooms assigned to us and began to get the kinks out of our bodies from the 300-mile trip. It was nearing 7:30 when I looked out, and the place was packed with cowboys and locals, probably from 30 or 40 miles away. Towns like this drew fans from those distances, as it was the only form of excitement besides rodeos, ice cream socials and quilting bees.

At 8 p.m., the bell rang, starting the first match with The Viking facing Yasu Fuji. Both guys, being the more aggressive style wrestlers, fought for 20 minutes until the bell rang, and the referee Frank Diamond had no choice but to declare the match a draw. Viking had different ideas and thrust his taped up thumb into Fuji's neck and drove him out of the ring into the theater seats.

The second match had Chati Yokouchi against Ronnie Etchison, the old pro from St. Joe. Ronnie made quick work out of Chati by using a bear hug. Ronnie had tremendous strength in his upper body and kept himself in the best shape by isometrics before every match.

Juan Sebastian, a former Gaucho in Spain, went against a newcomer by the name of Billy Howard from Minneapolis. These two athletes literally tore the house down with their hold and counter-hold match. For every wrestling hold, there are at least three counter attacks. These guys were coming up with four and five. This match went the entire 20-minute time limit.

Following a short intermission, I led my tag team champions, Black Angus and Harley Race, to the ring. People in Downs and the rest of the crowd just didn't know what to think of me and the way I was dressed. I had on a beautiful royal blue jacket with orange slacks, a yellow tie, and red, white and blue dingo boots. I was topped off with my green and black Campbell clan tam.

As the match was being introduced with our opponents Danny Littlebear and Omar Atlas, I caught a cowboy headed my way with blood in his eyes for me. I looked around, and the security we had hired was sound asleep in a chair at ringside. I began to back up in his direction, and, when I got close enough, I kicked the leg right out from under the chair, and he ended up sprawled out on the floor between me and this cowboy.

He jumped to his feet and told the cowboy to take his seat … and then he called him by his name … Doboy. I went back to my corner, where a couple of the guys had come out from the dressing room to help watch my back.

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