Most of my wrestling was for Bill Lewis in Norfolk (VA) during the World War II years. Sailors, after a few drinks, would yell "Fake! I can whip any of them." Bill was always alert for this attitude. He'd seek those sailors out, get their name, and the address of their outfit. When the bout in progress at that time was over, Bill would step into the ring and announce something like, "Ladies and Gentlemen. Sailor so-and-so has just challenged any wrestler here. I've just matched him with my smallest man, Eddie Blanks. Be sure to buy your ticket early, because we're expecting a full hour next Thursday." Then Bill would go to his office and lock the door.
Now the poor guy is trapped. He will either have to wrestle me or lost face with his sailor buddies. During those days, I weighed 185 to 190, but I could really wrestle and would use amateur holds to pin them. You'd be surprised at the number of them who would ask me not to hurt them ... or ask me to let them look good to their buddies. Most of the time I complied, but I'd never agree to put one of them over. I don't want you to think I'm bragging, but Bill's wrestlers used to call me The Little Shooter.
When I first wrestled in Richmond, the shows were held in the (Richmond) City Auditorium. It was dangerous, wrestling in that old auditorium, because a group of boys would sit in the balcony and shoot us with staples, propelled by rubber bands.
The company never asked me to stop wrestling, but in certain subtle ways, they let me know that they thought I was wrestling too much. I didn't understand what their objections could be, since I was doing an excellent job for them. The company's insurance carrier also let it be known that, they too, took a dim view of my wrestling activities. I could make as much money wrestling once as I could make working two to three weeks, so I hated to give it up. So, Louise made me a mask out of a red stocking cap. I bought some red wrestling trunks, wore white socks with red stripes on them, and wrestled as 'The Red Devil'.
Soon after my oldest son, Eddie, was married, his wife Phyllis, an excellent cook, had her parents and Louise and me over for dinner. During the 'get to know one another better' conversation after dinner, her dad, who is considerably younger than I, asked me if I had ever wrestled in Richmond, had I ever wrestled in the old city auditorium, had I ever known a wrestler whose name was 'The Red Devil'? Upon receiving positive answers to all three questions, he told me that when he was a boy, he and some other boys used to sit in the balcony and shoot staples at 'The Red Devil' with rubber bands. I don't believe I ever saw a more embarrassed person than he was when I said "I was the Red Devil". Some day, I'll attempt to calculate the mathematical probability against the above situation happening.
