Eddie Rose reflects on his long wrestling career.
Wrestling Heritage welcomes memories, further information and corrections.
Cold, wet and windy? Bored with TV? A drink too may last night? THAT wrestling show on TV and the ensuing comments? Storm Doris? It’s all jogged my memories of sunny summer days and long trips to distant venues during the “Golden Age.”
Most of my wrestling jobs were within easy travelling distance of Manchester, mainly in the North and Midlands but in the summertime I ventured further afield, “down south”, the West Country, Scotland and even Butlin’s Camps on occasions!
West Country Wrestling
A good friend, Eric Taylor, used to run venues in the West Country and he offered my an attractive 5-day trip along with Ian “Mad Dog” Wilson. On the way down we picked up ‘Judo’ John Brown at an M5 Services near Bristol. The venues included Plymouth, St Ives, Ilfracombe, Seaton and Exmouth and members of the group included George Burgess (The Jamaica Kid), Jimmy McCombie, Jackie Pallo and Peter Preston: a different venue and a different opponent each night!
One of the highlights of the week was the way the ebullient Peter Preston taunted Jackie Pallo at every opportunity and referred to him constantly as “Custard Lugs”; a friendly Yorkshire comment on Pallo’s hair. Their bouts always had an extra “bite” to them!
After the show at Ilfracombe, in a hotel and holiday complex, the name of which escapes me, we had a relaxing night watching the cabaret. It proved a bit too relaxing for Ian Wilson who enjoyed several large “Vera Lynn’s” during a fairly raucous night! Next morning at breakfast he dragged out his wallet and began to count his money. He became more and more agitated and eventually asked me “Did we get paid last night?” We reminded him about the gins and the penny soon dropped!
George Burgess always took some stamped addressed envelopes with him and , immediately the promoted paid him he popped most of his wages into one of these envelopes, went and found a letter box, and posted it home. At the end of the week he had managed to save most of his wages, unlike one or two others.
I quite liked Pallo even though he never bothered to learn my name. He always called me “Fodder” as in “Fodder for the star…but good Fodder!” I think this was one of the things that irked Peter Preston with Peter calling Pallo “Custard Lugs” all the way through their bouts.
P.S. The weather was warm and sunny all week
SUMMER AYR
It’s mid-March and the sun shines on Lancashire today! The daffodils are blooming in the hedgerows. I would be a pity to leave it all but my thoughts have been turning to summers in Scotland. Think about this for an itinerary: Ayr, Rothesay, Oban and Campbeltown to work for Spartan Promotions which was run by Dale Storm and Bruce Welch who took over the Rothesay venue after Fred Woolly and Danny Flynn. Good weather, good travelling, good wrestling and, best of all, good wages!
One trip I recall featured “Romeo” Joe Critchley, Sugar Ray Francis, Mark Wayne, Gustav Le Brun and me as the “foreigners”, so to speak. One sure-fire way of geeing a Scottish audience was to go into the ring speaking in loud English voice. Never failed.
Rothesay on the Isle of Bute, is a beautiful ferry trip away from the mainland and in early July it was always packed out with Glasgow holiday makers looking to support their men against all comers. Coming away after the show late at night, the ferry had stopped running and we were able to hitch a lift on the mail boat – a converted fishing vessel. Accessing the high pier from the small boat was an SAS operation. The alternative was a small ferry from the northern tip of the island but with a much longer road journey; OK for Perth but not so good for Manchester.
Dale and Bruce always looked after the wrestlers with first class accommodation, often with their Mum and Dad or other members of the family with who Mark Wayne and myself became almost members.
Joe Critchley used keep us amused with his wrestling stories and his love-life. Joe was six times married and rivalled Buddy Ward on that score. Hence his title “Romeo.”The last time I saw Joe as after a show at the Monaco in Wigan and, guess what, he introduced me to his fiance! Sadly, Joe died a few weeks after this.
We learnt not to go in chip shops with Joe. He was the proprietor of his own shop in Wigan and knew all the ins-and-outs of the business. Once in a chippy he knew just how to needle the owner. Often almost to the point of violence. On one occasion this happened and, suddenly, Joe had disappeared and left me and Mark Wayne to try and pacify the enraged owner and several mates who had materialised from nowhere.
The other thing to avoid was getting into a car with Dale Storm. He was a reckless driver with a souped-up Ford Cortina Mk1. He took terrifying risks, often forcing on-coming drivers off the road on grass verges. Once I got the train back to Ayr from Oban out of sheer fright caused by his driving! I trust he is more responsible nowadays.
HOLIDAY TIME FOR SOME!
The meet was 11.30 pm Sunday evening at Wryton Promotions Office! That was the setting off time for a tour of the Butlins holiday camps. This particular tour comprised: Don Branch (driver and referee), Mark Wayne, Dave Barrie (Les Kellet’s son), Peter “Tally-ho” Kaye, and me. We all reported in to the office and Arthur Wright himself appeared in a black silk dressing gown to wish us well.
The first thing we did was to pay petrol money to the driver for a journey that would take in the Butlins Camps at Ayr, Filey, Skegness and Clacton and the we set off to drive to Scotland at a time that was largely pre-motorway.
Ayr lives in my mind and body to this day. The ring was set up on the ballroom floor with merely a canvas sheet covering the parquet floor. I did not realise the full implications and took a throw off the ropes from Peter Kaye and did my usual landing, unfortunately. My low back hit the very solid floor with a crack. I found out later that I had displaced my sacra-iliac Joint (where the spine meets the hips). It never recovered fully and still gives me occasional day of pain ans stiffness forty-odd years on.
Accommodation in a couple of camps was on-site whereas other camps would not provide it for reasons best known to themselves and the wrestlers had to search around town. There were two show a day at three of the camps and three shows a day at the other (Filey or Skegness, I’m not sure which).
Food was another issue: none provided but there was the opportunity to cadge some from the kitchens and Don Branch came back from Ayr with a bag full of hard boiled eggs. Our main drink whilst in transit was bottles of lemonade so I’ll leave it to your imagination what the atmosphere in the car was like from five men on a hot August day. Foetid does not do it justice!
We worked out the economics; after paying the driver, a couple of B&Bs and wrestling 9 times in 4 days our wages worked out at about £3 per bout. No wonder they reckoned Arthur Wright was a millionaire!
We stopped at a small village half way between Ayr and Filey for fish and chips and AW Wainright joined the queue behind us. I recognised him immediately and started to chat him up about his famous walks. He was monosyllabic, responding with a curt Yes or No. He didn’t rate the fish and chips either.
At Clacton, where there was coincidentally a show in the town we bumped into Colin Joynson and discussed at length the merits of “doing the camps” and surviving. Clacton provided some relief from the usual Butlin’s rings: it was a proper wrestling ring with some resilience to it that made our work easier and better for the fans.
The lads on the team were first class. Peter Kaye kept us amused with endless stories about his friend Harvey Smith and his clashes with Jackie Pallo. Dave Barrie was Les Kellet’s son and we gathered loads of information about Les as a man and a father.
Mark Wayne was (and still is) an old friend of mine from our days at Panther’s Gym and wrestling and travelling around the North West for a bout twenty years. First class wrestler and a good, sound mate.
Don Branch, too, was a good companion and I always remember him for two things:
firstly his revelations to a Sunday newspaper about wrestling, some true so not and, secondly, at the end of our journey, not 200 yards from Wryton’s office, he missed a HALT sign and drove right across one of busiest road junctions in Manchester (Fog Lane and Palatine Road) at forty miles an hour. How we all survived that at evening rush hour I cannot believe to this day.
I did other Butlins Camps but not that particular four day trip. It was hard work with poor pay, irregular and rubbish food, indifferent digs and the smell in that car!! But good fun with the lads!
MAGIC MOMENTS.
The following incidents did not happen on single occasion, rather they are memorable moments from over an eighteen year time span in professional wrestling.
A Free Show
During a long journey to Cornwall with Tiger Delmonte we were talking about amateur and catch styles of wrestling and how to incorporate some of these techniques into professional wrestling. Suddenly Del shouted “There’s a lay-by!” I drove into the lay-bay thinking Del had been taken ill. No, he pointed to a lush grass verge and said “Let’s have a pull-round on the grass.” 4.30 am and dawn breaking. However out we got and started to wrestle, quickly getting into a mix of styles. After ten minutes, sweating profusely, we stopped only to hear a ripple of applause. A couple of other cars had driven into the lay-by but we had not noticed them. The drivers and passenger, having got over their initial shock, enjoyed the show and clapped us back to our car. Del commented that we should have taken the hat round!
Accessory to Robbery
Coming back from Birmingham just before the M6 junction, one of the wrestlers asked to stop and buy some sweets from a corner shop (still open at 11.00 pm). I stopped the car and waited for several minutes for the return of the two lads who had gone shopping. They returned in a hurry AND with the shop’s cash register in their arms! Down the next side street and empty the till! They said it was impulse and we said take it back! No names: no pack drill but they didn’t take it back.
Directions Please!
A week after the M62 opened it full length near Manchester, I picked Ian “Mad Dog” Wilson up at his home in Stockport for a show in Halifax. Now Ian could get a bit giddy laughing at jokes and stories which is what we often did on car journeys.
We continued along the motorway laughing our way through Yorkshire. Suddenly we became aware of a sign post telling us the M1 was ahead. “Bloody Hell, we’re about 20 miles too far!”
We pulled off the motorway and rang the promoter, humbly asking for direction from somewhere outside Leeds back to the show. Thereafter the promoter always sent us written direction when he booked us and we couldn’t ever drive on a motorway again without laughing about this incident.
The Bag Lady
It was a long journey back from Norfolk and one of lads (Tiger Delmonte again) started to whinge about a ‘pit stop’ as we came through Macclesfield. “No way!” the lads shouted eager to be home, “We’re only ten minutes from Stockport!” (Where our cars were parked).
Del continued to moan, really moan! We drove into the car park by the town hall and out he jumped, delighted to be able to ‘relieve’ himself. In mid-flow a shadow loomed and a voice shrieked “ Ee, I’ve never seen a black one before!” A startled Del jumped a foot in the air and his ‘flow’ lost direction and ruined his very light grey trousers! The bag lady quickly disappeared to find a quieter and drier spot1
Food, Glorious Food??
Food was always an important item with most wrestlers. Favourites were ‘ Jockeys and a Lilian’ : Jockeys Whips and a Lilian Gish for fish and chips. Secondly a ‘Ruby’ as in Ruby Murray for a curry. (That all sounds very dated but it was fifty years ago)!
I once did a little trip around Lincolnshire and parts of East Anglia and ‘Big Bill’ Coverdale was a fellow traveller. Bill was an amiable, relaxed, eighteen stone heavy weight and an ex-Para from Arnhem in WW2. We had meals in various cafes (no Service Stations back then) but Bill never ordered a meal. He casually helped himself to bits and pieces off other wrestlers’ plates with a “I’ll just have a couple of those chips, Eddie.” The process repeated itself around the table and Bill finished up having as much to eat as the rest of us who had paid. Nobody, but nobody had the bottle to say no to Bill, certainly not me. However, eating habits apart, he was a first class wrestler and mate.
Another episode concerned Jack Dempsey’ son Michael, who had been on a short trip with Ian Wilson and me. On the way back we all suddenly felt very hungry. It was quite late at night and we pulled into an M6 Services for some food. Michael said he really should wait as the next turn off was for Wigan, his home town. We persuaded him to join us. Some nights later we were on a show and in walked Jack Dempsey and played hell with us for taking Michael into “those bloody motorway services and paying good money for rubbish food! He had a point but it was the unnecessary spending of good money and hard earned wages when his own home was ten minutes away! Wigan lads were a bit careful with their money !
The Car Keys
Romeo Joe Critchley had his car stolen in Liverpool. Some weeks later he had a booking on the Isle of Man for Orig Williams. One the way back, as the ship approached Liverpool, Joe stood on the outside deck talking to the lads when he took out his car keys. “The car was nicked weeks ago and the police have not found it.” And he threw the keys into the sea, “Won’t need them any more.
A policeman was waiting for him as we disembarked: “Mr Critchley,” he addressed Joe,” Just to let you know we’ve found your car. It’s in one piece but the keys are missing.”
MAGIC MOMENTS
Wrestling bookings in North Wales were much appreciated by us Manchester wrestlers; an easy drive there and back on good roads (mostly) usually in fine summer weather, good venues and good wages. The main promoter was the much-missed Orig (El Bandito) Williams. He wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I always got on very well with him.
His best venue was Rhyl Town Hall, a compact building with the punters right up to ringside and never shy to let you know just what they thought. Ian Wilson and myself worked at Rhyl a lot. So much so that several years after I retired ,Ian Wilson had a booking there and the MC for the evening, Orig himself, mus have been distracted as he announced “In the red corner from Stockport Ian Wilson and in the blue corner Manchester’s Eddie Rose!” Orig and Ian dissolved into a fit of giggles.
On another occasion Orig billed Ian and myself against Klondike Bill. “Klon” flattened me after about five minutes and did the same to Ian a short while afterwards. What a mis-match!
My eldest son, Chris, made a big friend at Rhyl. I took him into the changing rooms and he was over-awed by the sight of all the big lads getting changed and exchanging news with each other. The, the biggest man in the room beckoned him over and offered him some sweets. That broke the ice and Chris enjoyed the company of the friendly giant for the rest of the evening. Crusher Mason aka The Mighty Chang. He was saddened to hear of his death a few years back for he always asked after him years later.
During a bout in Llandudno I misjudged a move and got a big knee in my mouth; blood everywhere and I could feel a tooth forcing its way through my lip. There was immediate concern by the referee and my opponent. The second was waived in to do running repairs. Suddenly Orig appeared and snatched the second’s towel away. “Don’t wipe the blood away” he hissed. Then he turned his solicitations to me: “Take a mouth full of water when the bell goes and let it dribble out slowly during the round.”
I was expecting at least a Paramedic! After a round and a half the ref stopped the fight and I was at the dental hospital in Manchester next morning. “Was I in a road accident?” the dentist asked.
The next morning my very upset mother phoned me. Unbeknownst to me her and father were in the audience the previous night and she was both shocked and angry and promised to give that Orig Williams a piece of her mind.
Other promoters ran at other venues and one I liked was not really a holiday venue. It was at Coed Poeth near Wrexham and was a Jack Atherton promotion. Jack as a kind of affiliate to Joint Promotions and used their men mainly. I was “Opposition” at the time and Jack gave me a couple of bookings; the first one was the great Alan Dennison who gave me a lesson in professional ring craft and the second one was with Johnny South, an old friend from Panther’s Gym in Manchester. The audience was great and gave us a warm welcome and a good farewell at the end of both bouts.
Another venue was Butlin’s Camp at Pwelli. It involved an early start and the shows were late morning and mid-afternoon Each time I went there the driver/referee was Carl Dane, a man I grew to like very much for his humour and quiet sense of authority. The one trip that persistently sticks in my mind was the day that we picked up Keith Martinelli, who sadly died quite recently. Keith was noted for his tough, aggressive approach with quarter neither asked for or given. I survived a six round draw and I’ve never been slammed, monkey climbed and victory rolled so much in my life. We were both lathered in sweat and blood (mainly mine) at the end and I went on my knees to thank the timekeeper for the final bell. Afterwards, and me expecting trouble, Keith came into the chalet with a big grin on his face and offered his hand (mine were full gripping a chair in case he wanted to carry on fighting) and said, “Good bout that, Eddie.” We shook hands. Years later I met Keith at Streiger’s funeral. He was in a wheelchair and I gripped his collar and said “Pay back time!” He grinned again and said “I’ll still have you, chair or no chair.” I half believed him, too!
BLACKPOOL & OTHER PLACES
Blackpool always loomed large in the wrestler’s diary At any one time in the ’60s and ’70s there were two or three promoters busy at any one time with shows at the north end in Fleetwood, then down to the Norbreck Castle, the piers, the Tower and various theatres and clubs along the “Golden Mile.”
Perhaps my favourite promoter was Bobby Barron, a good natured guy with a laid back approach and a good man to work for. The best known Blackpool wrestler, though, was Jack Pye, the incomparable “King of the Ring.” I got to know Jack a little over the years but a stand-out memory of Jack was at the end of his career when he was refereeing on special occasions. He refereed my bout with Jim Moser and in the lull between round one and two a very loud voice boomed out: “DIRTY PYE!” which was followed by a mixture of boos and applause that went on for several minutes. Jack walked over to my corner and whispered to me :They still remember me, Eddie!” and I swear there was a tear in his eye.
The top lads from Blackpool included Tony Francis (El Diablo), Rex Strong (Barry Shearman) and Iska Khan. I wrestled Tony in a late night club on on occasion in front of a drunken, ignorant audience. It was hard going but by the end Tony had won the crowd over and we got a good round of applause.
At a wrestlers reunion some years ago it was announced that Barry Shearman had died recently and he was included in the roll of honour as the bell was tolled. The next year, it was announced that there had been an error and Barry was fit and well. In fact he was seated on the front row ad fit as a butcher’s dog. Known as Lazarus thereafter.
Ishka Khan recounted his brief career on a Fleetwood trawler. He made only two trips out to Icelandic waters. The first one was horrendous and he made a second trip to make sure; it was, and he retired from fishing there and then.
We worked at one of the largest hotels in the resort and the changing accommodation was in a huge kitchen. There were no toilet facilities! A well known tag team (from down South) refused to walk through the bar in front of the punters and instead used one of the very large washing-up sinks.. several times..an ran the taps to flush it all away. Years later I attended a conference at the same hotel and as I sat down to eat I got a sudden vision of how the kitchen had been abused by those wrestlers. My appetite died on the spot and I just could not eat anything.
One thing Blackpool could justifiably boast about was the chippy just off the Marton roundabout on the edge of town. You could walk in on most summer evenings about 10.00 p.m. and find wrestlers from two or even three different shows dining on the most mouthwatering fish and chips I’ve ever eaten. Four or five different types of fish in about five different sizes from ordinary to mammoth of the finest quality. Never tasted better since those days!
“THE LADS I TRAVELLED WITH” AWARDS
Best Navigators; Ian ‘Mad Dog’ Wilson and Kevin Cawley
Worst Transport: Emile Poilve’s caravanette when fully loaded on a long trip
Scary Drivers: Dale Storm, Don Branch, Wally Delmar, Jim Mellor & “Romeo” Joe Critchley (used to be a corner in Rhyl that was known as “Joe’s Corner” where he trashed his car whilst watching the lad’s antic in the back seat through his rear view mirror.
Best Stories (long division) Jim Moser
Best Stories (“Porkies”) Micky Gold tied with Monty Swan
Best Stories (Complicated Life Style) Jack Cassidy
Best Stories (Other sports) Tiger Delmonte aka Del Willis, pro boxer
Best Chippy Spotter: Pete Lindberg (except in Birmingham)
Dodgy Room-mate (Frilly knickers) Mark Wayne
Free with money award: Wigan lads and Bob Sherry
Food Free-loader Big Bill Coverdale
“Always Prepared – Food” Jack Atherton
Best chat-up lines Dane Curtis and Dick Conlon
(a tie and both unrepeatable!)
Lots of Laughs Award Most wrestlers!
Enjoy your Summer – Eddie Rose
Wrestling Heritage 