There are many reasons why Ruth and I throw a party for the boys each year, but four specific instances stand out in the birth, development and follow through of the concept of the Annual Wrestling Reunion.
My first introduction to pro wrestling took place in Seattle in 1958-59. After attending some house shows as a fan, my involvement expanded into production and sale of "programs" at house shows, allowing me to get to know the individuals involved with the sport, much closer than most people who just bought a ringside ticket and watched.
The first of the four incidents I refer to took place in 1965 at the East Wenatchee Gun Club Arena, a cozy "arena" in the middle of a grass field off a dirt road about 10 miles outside of Wenatchee, Washington, some 150 miles east of Seattle. By now, I was participating as a substitute referee and promoter of an occasional spot show in a few towns a lot smaller than Wenatchee. Assigned my duties in the make-shift dressing room of the Gun Club Arena, waiting for the first bout to go on, I was sitting in the dressing room, when in walked a face I didn't recognize. He turned out to be an ex-wrestler, long-retired, who was just visiting Eastern Washington.
His name was Earl McCready. I was sure this intruder was going to be tossed out on his ear. After all, it had taken me five years to be allowed in the dressing room ... but to my surprise, the entire group of wrestlers who were working that night, in addition to the promoter, all greeted this stranger like he was their long-lost, wealthy brother. I didn't learn much that night, but looking back on it, I realized that wrestlers share a wonderful camaraderie, that after they leave the environment, can only be duplicated by get-togethers with kindred people.
The second and third incident both deal with personal injuries and, while at the time they happened, I didn't realize what they meant, upon reflection, they were the motivation that propelled me.
In 1966, I was running a spot show in Port Angeles, Washington and used a part-time wrestler on the opening bout. After his match, as he was walking from the ring to the dressing room, his opponent sneaked up behind him and kicked him from behind on his lower leg. It was a dumb move, not only because no one in the house was able to see what he was doing, but because the part-time wrestler had no idea it was going to happen and wasn't able to defend himself properly. We had to carry this man back to the dressing room as he said he was in great pain.
I assumed he got a bad bruise that night and didn't think anything more about it until over one year later when I was at a dinner party and met a doctor. Upon casual conversation, he found out I was connected with wrestling and he told me about a patient of his who received a leg injury last year that has kept him off work and confined to a wheelchair for over a year. It was Bob Regen, a beer truck driver by trade, but also my part-time wrestler. Here was a man that suffered a disabilitating serious injury while working for me, yet never called to cry, complain, or say boo.
The second injury is pretty similar. In 1974, when I was promoting, I brought Dano McDonald out of retirement for a series of matches in Seattle. Here's an individual who started wrestling in 1943, quit in the '60s to become a full-time mortician, but loved the business so much he jumped at the opportunity to "work" again. He had half a dozen or so matches in '74 for me, before he said the next one would be his last, because he and wife Phyllis, who he married in 1941, were planning on driving to Reno. So I booked him one more time in Seattle, and I watched the match knowing it would be his last. As usual, it was great.
Five years later, I learned that Dano broke three ribs in that match when his opponent stomped on his stomach. I heard it not from Dano, but from another source, and when I phoned Dano to yell at him, he simply shrugged it off as if it were all part of some big game plan. These athletes taught me when to speak up and when to keep quiet and I don't know of any people I admire more.
The fourth incident took place in 1990. I had gone on to other business endeavors, having promoted my last match in 1976. In 1979, I met my wife, Ruth, and we were married in 1980. She had never been exposed to professional wrestling and knew only what the general public assumed. Having never met a wrestler or seen a match, I was her first link to this new world. She loved hearing stories I told her, about events and specific incidents, and although I didn't have to fabricate information, she found it incredible that this world existed. In 1990, we were vacationing in Honolulu and were guests at the Kahala Hilton where it is not uncommon to see people dressed in sports coats and ties just to go to the snack bar by the pool.
Ruth was about to meet her first real professional wrestler. Ripper Collins had worked for me from 1973 to 1975, and was retired and living in Honolulu. Over the phone, we had made arrangements to meet in Honolulu. We were close when he worked here and we hadn't seen each other since he left. I will never forget Ruth's expression when not only Ripper Collins walked into the lobby of the Kahala, but he brought another wrestler with him, a 310-pound man whose name I never knew or memorized, because when I knew him he worked as El Medico II under a mask. Collins, at a mere 265 pounds with bright, bleached blonde hair and loud 4x Hawaiian shirts and cut-offs, stood out in this upscale lobby where no one dares to wear jeans. I did not know for sure how Ruth would respond.
But there was not time. Within seconds, this magnificent personality with his flamboyant charm had won over not only Ruth, but everyone in the facility, from the wait staff to the administrative office who rushed over for autographs, " ... for their children," of course! The hour or so that Ruth and I spent talking with Ripper and El Medico II was the highlight of the vacation. After they left, I was able to tell Ruth dozens of more tales, because he had refreshed my memory and reminded me about hundreds of things I hadn't thought about in years.
Ruth casually mentioned something to the effect, "Dean, are there other ex-wrestlers like Ripper we can get together with?" I actually believe she was as eager as I was to find out.
I probably place too much emphasis on wrestling in my life, but I have been modestly successful in career choices, and I believe that everything I ever learned about business and how to deal with other people, I learned during my days in wrestling, and thus, I don't feel I'm going overboard when I often say everything I have I owe to wrestling. I'm sure wrestling didn't allow me to marry Ruth, but I know it didn't hurt when it gave us a mutual enjoyment ... to have reunions.
To see many dear old friends and co-workers reunite, and for a few brief hours, through the renewal of friendships and sharing "war" stories, the reunions become full of an energy that once sustained us all. It is indeed my way of paying back these men for all the bumps they took over the years, for all the injuries they sustain that no one ever hears about, and for all the education they can pass on if you look at the picture from a special slant, a very special slant.
