CAC Benevolent Fund

Saturday Night Slam

Happy Father's Day

I caught myself again yesterday looking at old programs and came across one that caught my eye. It was from St. Joseph, Missouri and dated November 3, 1972.

As I remember, it was a night just after the breakup of Angus and Roger Kirby. Angus decided that he was jealous of the attention that I had been giving to Roger, and he decided to go his own way. It was a mistake that cost him a lot of main event money and title shots.

Roger and I had to park nearly four blocks away and be brought in by police escort due to what I had said on live TV about Angus the Saturday before. I referred to Angus as being a very snobbish person that thought nothing about breaking rules and spitting in the face of authority. I gave him a good life for nearly five years, and he paid me the 30% of his money he earned for doing so.

I had just bought him a new Ford pickup truck so that he could act like the redneck neighbors he lived near. On some nights, he was even allowed to sleep in the cab, instead of in the eight-foot bed in the back. He had it pretty good while under my guidance and never had to worry about much, except going to workouts and getting to towns. I pretty much saw to all of that on a daily basis.

He was a tough guy to talk to on trips, as all he wanted to do was sleep and eat. He needed to be prodded every now and then to kindle his spirits. He led a very lonely life and kept pretty much to himself.

As Roger and I entered the city auditorium, we were pelted with beer cans, had chunks of rock thrown at us, and even the police escort did nothing to stop this invasion. Roger and I made it back to our private dressing room that we used to have to share with Angus and began to ready ourselves for the evening.

As the bell rang for the first event, I glanced out at the overflow crowd that had every seat in the building full. People had even bought standing room space in the aisle ways between the cheap seats and the reserved section in the upper decks. Omar Atlas faced Billy Howard in the 10-minute opener. They wrestled to a draw and nearly caused a riot with their action inside the squared circle.

Les Thornton, the pug-nosed bulldog from England, was in the second bout against The Destroyer, a masked man that had been brought in to stop his reign of wins. At roughly 15 minutes into the match, The Destroyer slipped a metal object into the front of his mask and head butted the little Englishman. He then pulled him from the mat and did it a second time before dropping onto his shoulders for the three count.

Ronnie Etchison, the hometown hero, came to the ring with a standing ovation to face Bobby Whitlock from Alabama. Bobby tried hard to outwrestle Ronnie, but he did not succeed, as Etchison caught him in a swinging full nelson and made him submit.

Betty Niccoli, the Ladies' U.S. Champ, came to grips with Belle Starr from San Antonio, and they battled to a 15-minute draw that had fans on the edge of their seats. Judging from their actions in the ring and on the floor of the arena, I would not have tangled with either of these two ladies.

The Semi Final was a huge six-man tag team match that pitted the best that the Midwest had to offer. Juan Sebastian, from Spain, teamed up with Billy Howard and the Destroyer to go against Danny Littlebear, Les Thornton and Omar Atlas. In the near one-hour match, which went two out of three falls, fans at ringside caught themselves climbing into the ring. They tried to help out Danny Littlebear, who was getting the snot knocked out of him by the Destroyer. Police had to make six arrests to calm things down. The Destroyer, Sebastian and Howard eventually won the match as they ended up triple teaming Atlas and leaving him in a humpled-up mess in the middle of the ring after pinning him for a three count.

As I glanced out the window of my dressing room, I noticed it had begun to snow very heavily. You would not have believed it by looking anywhere in the building, as it was very heated up in there. Richard Moody, Old Rabbit Ears, stuck his head in the doorway and called to Roger and me to get out to the ring, as the Main Event was beginning.

Roger put on a beautiful red sequined jacket that he just had made at Karl and Hildegard's, looked in the mirror like Buddy Rogers used to do, and combed his blond locks into just the right look and proceeded to the ring with me watching his back. I had even left my briefcase in the dressing room that night so as to not give Rabbit Ears any excuse to have me ejected from ringside.

It was called a Texas Death Match, with falls not counting and no time limit. Angus stood in the ring and parted the ropes for me to enter. I reluctantly decided to stay on the floor and not even give him a chance of getting his hands on me. Roger removed his coat and began to call out insults at Angus. He knew that if he got his temper up, he could catch him off guard.

The bell rang, and I took a lunge at Angus, who was in Roger's face, and he tried to take me out with one huge punch. I was quick enough to step to the side and miss his fist but was nearly floored by the wind behind it. Roger took off on Angus and began to beat the stuffings out of him as the two fought out of the ring and into the ringside seats. I stayed back away from most of the action only to watch out for the buddies of Angus, who might try and get Roger from the backside.

Back and forth, the action went until Roger had Angus on the mat and had him pinned. Moody refused to count the shoulders down for the three count. Roger rose from the mat and began to get into Moody's face and did not hear me calling to him to watch his back as Angus was sneaking up behind him and drove his fist into the small of his neck with a rabbit punch that dropped Kirby to the mat. Moody was quick to count a 10-count and declare Angus the winner after nearly 30 minutes of nonstop action.

I went to Gust Karras and demanded that we get a rematch without the help of his one sided referees. I even tried to explain that, while Roger had Angus pinned, Rabbit Ears wouldn't even count him to the mat. It was a direct violation of the Missouri rules and regulations of the Wrestling Commission.

The fans went home happy that night, Angus had himself carried back to the dressing room on their shoulders, and we had to have a riot squad to get out of the ring and then out of the building. I never understood fans in St. Joseph; even if they were happy with Moody's decision, they still wanted to see you get the stuffings knocked out of you.

Just another night on the road ... in the wonderful world of Professional Wrestling.

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