An amazing amount of "old-time" wrestling fans reading Scott Teal's web page have contacted me via e-mail, commenting on the wrestling promotions I worked with and ran in the 1950s, 60s and 70s. It's really nice to read a note from an ex-customer who appreciated what you did, and what your talent did. Almost all have been complimentary, and thanking us profusely for our contributions to what now their own sons and daughters watch on TV. Several have even described their turbulent childhood home life, and said that our wrestling shows were the only thing they looked forward to during the week.
They've asked many questions, some directed to the wrestlers about their recollections, but the ones directed toward me have inquired about the insights of the business aspect of the promotion, and how things were put togther.
One question in particular jogged my memory about a rib the entire crew played on Crazy Luke Graham. I haven't seen Luke since the early 1970s, but if he still has any hair left, I'm sure it's all white because of what we did.
Our territory was humming. The box office was good, all the talent was earning at least twice their weekly guarantee, spot shows were strong, and things were just generally brisk. We decided the time was right to reserve the big arena in Seattle for a special show. We planned to have a five night tournament, in and around the Seattle vicinity, so fans wouldn't have to drive too far if they wanted to see all five nights of the tourney, which upon completion, would result in a singles champion to take on a "national" name.
Before we could start, I had to arrange to borrow a well-known name from outside the area. My original idea was to book Bulldog Bob Brown, who was extremely well known here from his stint a few years earlier. So I phoned Bob Geigel in Kansas City to see if The Bulldog would be available. I remember how gracious and courteous Bob Geigel was, and he promised to talk to Brown to see if our dates would conflict with any of their plans. True to his word, Geigel phoned me back the next day and said Brown really wanted to do it, but the date we had reserved the Seattle arena for would conflict with one of their big shows.
I then phoned Tom Renesto, who at the time was booking Atlanta. He was just as gracious and courteous as Bob Geigel had been, and said the Seattle dates would not conflict with any Atlanta schedules. We offered a $700 guarantee for one boy to work Seattle Tuesday night, work a TV studio taping Wednesday at noon, and work a house show Wednesday night in Yakima. We would also pay his trans and fly him back to Atlanta on Thursday morning. Renesto gave us Crazy Luke Graham, and our five day tourney began. It was won by Eddie Sullivan, who was a very strong baby face at that time, after originally coming to the territory as a heel with partner Rip Tyler.
The day of the big match in Seattle, I sent someone from the office to the airport to pick up Luke Graham, and here's where the rib was born.
Graham casually commented to his ride that he left Atlanta in such a hurry he accidentally left all his money at home. He had three dollars in his wallet, and asked his ride if he could borrow ten bucks until after the match.
Later that day, the gofer told me he had loaned Graham ten bucks and that was all the money he (Graham) had. I told a few of the boys in the dressing room Luke's predicament, and I think it was Ripper Collins who started the rib when Graham arrived. Collins said something about having to pay the doctor twenty-five dollars for his wrestling license, and when Graham said he had no money, all the boys jumped in.
"You know Silverstone pays a week after the show. You won't get a dime from the office until next Tuesday." At first Graham didn't believe the statement, but then all the boys backed him up. "Hey, it's office policy, no money until one week after the show ... no exceptions".
I was in the box office counting room when somebody told me how nervous and upset Graham was, and that he was afraid, ashamed, and embarassed to approach me for an advance. I gave instructions to get the word back to Graham, "no advances, no exceptions".
When we finally did communicate Tuesday night in the dressing room, it was easy to see that he wanted so much to talk to me about money, but I was quite unapproachable that night, and did my best to avoid a one-to-one conversation with him. Finally, I saw him borrow twenty-five dollars from the referee, but could tell he was nervous and highly uncomfortable. The next day at the TV station, I, of course, was so busy (for real), it was impossible for anyone to talk with me.
That night in Yakima, he had borrowed a buck or two from just about everyone on the card, and before he left for his bout that night, he did manage to corner me briefly when he said, "There's something I've got to talk to you about." I knew exactly what he was about to say, but I cut him off when the bell began summoning the main event participants. He was in a tag match that night, and one of his opponents, Paddy Ryan, told me after the match that Graham was so nervous he tripped over his own feet twice during the event.
I was in the Yakima Armory office, calling in the results of the matches over the phone to the Yakima "Herald-Republic" newspaper, when Graham knocked on the door. I motioned for him to come in, where he said, "I've got to talk to you about something." I gestured for him to be quiet while I was on the phone, and while I was giving the results to the sports writer, I handed Luke an envelope. He opened it and saw eleven $100 bills.
As I completed my phone call, I turned to Graham and said, "Now what was it you wanted to say?" Luke hesitated a moment, but then caught his composure and said "All I wanted to say was for you to let me know when you want me to come back."
He was driven to the Seattle Airport the next morning, and he gave the gofer back his ten dollars.
