Death of the Territories Page 2

  Muchnick and other influential NWA members jumped on board, and the title shift was authorized. On June 30, 1961, Rogers defeated New Zealander Pat O’Connor in a two-of-three-falls bout before a whopping crowd of 38,000 at Comiskey Park in Chicago. Everyone was thrilled by the box-office numbers — the gate was estimated at $125,000 — and great things were expected throughout the NWA. But it quickly became apparent that McMahon and a select group of Alliance members were the only beneficiaries of Rogers’s reign. In many ways, the skewed booking of Rogers as titleholder drove a wedge between a number of dues-paying NWA affiliates and what was seen as the establishment of the organization — McMahon, Sam Muchnick, Fred Kohler, and several other high-profile members. Those promoters representing smaller circuits were routinely ignored, and the notion that Rogers would benefit the entire union was incorrect. In the Northeast, though, McMahon and Rogers did exceptionally well. While wrestling championships weren’t officially recognized in New York, fans knew from the national publications that Rogers wore the NWA belt. It was win-win for McMahon, and he let Muchnick deal with any disgruntled NWA members.

  However, McMahon had a bigger plan for his territory, and ultimately decided to follow Verne Gagne’s footsteps and withdraw from the Alliance. His decision was coordinated with Rogers’s loss of the championship to Lou Thesz on January 24, 1963, at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto. But instead of acknowledging the title change, McMahon claimed Rogers was still world champion. He formed the World Wide Wrestling Federation (WWWF) and initiated a complete change of course from the NWA.

  It was already well known that the northeastern circuit, from Virginia to Maine, was big enough to support a champion all its own. No one man could fulfill all the obligations of the region plus maintain a national touring schedule. Rogers did the best he could in that regard, but after months of grueling travel, he was beginning to fall apart. He suffered several injuries, and by early 1963, he was displaying signs of heart trouble.9 The stress had gotten to him. With Buddy in need of rest, McMahon needed a new champion who could represent his new WWWF with credibility and zeal. Lucky for him, he had a young man in the wings ready for the job. On May 17, 1963, the championship was moved from Rogers to Italian powerhouse Bruno Sammartino in a 48-second match at New York’s Madison Square Garden.

  The territory was primed for a hero to take the reins, and Sammartino was the perfect antidote for spectators weary of Rogers and his antics. He was a hulking strongman, larger than life, and brought amazing charisma to the ring. In the months and years that followed, McMahon utilized a genius booking scheme for his champion, one that kept fans returning to the arena with gusto. The central idea was to build up a succession of threatening challengers for Sammartino, and Bruno would show his vulnerability in near defeats only to rise up in the end to conquer his opponents. His performance never failed to capture the imagination of audiences. Among his villainous rivals were the 350-pound Gorilla Monsoon, the 6-foot-5 Bill Miller, and the 6-foot-3, 275-pound Bill Watts. As Sammartino worked through one feud, McMahon pushed several other prominent challengers at the same time to keep the cycle continuing all over the circuit.

  Appreciated for his babyface qualities, Sammartino was a dominant wrestler and exceptionally tough. He didn’t need a gimmick to get over with crowds. Off the mat, he appeared genuine and as a man of integrity. The New York fanbase didn’t just buy into any wrestler pushed by promoters, and it took a special breed of grappler to become a cultural icon in that territory. Sammartino’s first reign as champion lasted from 1963 to 1971. Few people in history can claim such a prolonged and successful run, especially in a promotion the size of the WWWF. His durability was a testament to his drawing power and physical conditioning.

  One of the strengths of the territorial system was the clear-cut avenues for trading talent. Promoters within the NWA, including the AWA and WWWF, loved to send away burned-out workers from their region and receive fresh faces from cohorts elsewhere. This custom kept their shows from getting stale and allowed for new feuds on a regular basis. Sometimes, a big name from another region was enough to spark attendance all over a territory, and promoters relied on imported talent. The appearance of a special attraction was also a big boon to attendance. Women wrestlers, the troupe of little people, and other fascinating performers bounced from region to region, and fans responded in droves.

  Even to this day, much about professional wrestling is cyclical, and the popularity of the sport has fluctuated countless times. During the late 1950s, the end of the TV explosion created a sizable economic downturn for the industry, corresponding with the U.S. government’s antitrust investigation into the NWA. These factors put a strain on the Alliance, and membership declined from 39 in 1955 to a dozen in 1961.10 The union managed to endure the hardship and soon regained much of its lost momentum. Notably, Vince McMahon rejoined the Alliance in 1971, and his heavyweight crown lost its “world” title status. Membership did have its privileges, and it was hard to dismiss the benefits of being affiliated to the worldwide contingent. Over previous years, NWA champions Lou Thesz, Gene Kiniski, and Dory Funk Jr. — all effective scientific competitors with their own styles — had given the Alliance enormous international credibility. In comparison, McMahon placed an emphasis on towering, muscular brawlers. The WWWF was seen as a completely different product than the NWA, and the northeastern approach, while popular in that territory, wasn’t altogether appreciated elsewhere. And vice versa.

  Syndicated television provided many fans with exposure to outside territories for the first time. People in WWWF regions received telecasts from Los Angeles, Florida, and other locales, and their interest in Alliance wrestling spiked. To meet the growing curiosity, McMahon filled his Madison Square Garden shows with grapplers from the WWWF, the AWA, and the NWA, and Verne Gagne joined the Funks, the Grahams, and Dusty Rhodes for appearances. Cooperation between booking offices was never greater.

  In 1975, Sam Muchnick stepped down as president of the NWA, an inevitable move he’d been contemplating for years. The loss of his esteemed leadership was a blow, but others lent their experience to the role, starting with Jack Adkisson (Fritz Von Erich) and Eddie Graham.

  As for the WWWF, it faced several choppy years and brushed back a handful of coordinated invasions by independent promoters. Bruno Sammartino dropped his heavyweight crown to the “Russian Bear” Ivan Koloff on January 18, 1971, at Madison Square Garden, but Pedro Morales picked up the mantle as the promotion’s top fan favorite and titleholder less than a month later, on February 8, 1971. A popular wrestler from Puerto Rico, Morales retained the belt for well over two years, until being upset by Stan Stasiak, a veteran grappler from Canada, on December 1, 1973. Sammartino returned to the throne nine days later, much to the delight of his supporters. He remained WWWF champion until April 30, 1977, when “Superstar” Billy Graham beat him in Baltimore and captured the belt.

  Graham had the longest championship reign for a heel since Buddy Rogers and was an astronomical draw. On February 20, 1978, at Madison Square Garden, McMahon went in a different direction, though, and put his faith behind a former collegiate champion, the type of wrestler more likely to star in the NWA. Bob Backlund, a native Minnesotan, was his choice, and his wholesome personality was a stark change from his predecessor. What he lacked in charisma, he made up for in athletic ability, and crowds appreciated his virtuous in-ring methods.

  Over in the NWA, the world title passed through the capable hands of Terry Funk, Harley Race, and Dusty Rhodes between 1975 and ’79, and Giant Baba of Japan received a week long reign in late 1979. The business, at that point, was being inundated by a classy crop of new blood, and guys like Ric Flair, Ted DiBiase, and Ricky Steamboat were leading the charge.

  As the 1970s came to a close, the territories retained their exceptional individualism, but promoters were coming to grips with a variety of new challenges. Cable TV was the biggest quandary. The medium made it possible for a regional
operator to broadcast his show not only in neighboring regions but nationally. It was a pathway to immediate expansion, and every established promoter had cause for concern. In fact, the potential of cable made the already suspicious members of the NWA even more paranoid. However, the territorial system, defined over decades, was still in place and safe, and there was no way for an outsider to change that — at least, that’s what the old-time promoters believed. But, as time would tell, they couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Chapter Two

  Titan Sports

  In a boom period of professional wrestling, promoters easily maximized the weekly box office from live events throughout their regions. A promotion’s top priority was strengthening an “A” circuit featuring its top stars in its biggest-market cities. In many cases, promoters also fostered a secondary circuit composed of smaller towns using lesser talent. Spot shows were another important cog in a promoter’s repertoire, as these programs serviced locations outside of the regular circuits where fans watched the weekly program on TV but seldom saw the sport live. High school gymnasiums were routinely booked for these events, and in the case of the World Wide Wrestling Federation, spot shows were an essential element of its business. Imagine the WWE today running regular shows at high schools around the country. Just an inconceivable thought, but back in the 1970s and into the ’80s, it was a regular thing.

  The WWWF’s territory consisted of 11 states: New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Maryland, Connecticut, New Jersey, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Vermont, Delaware, and Maine. Additionally, the promotion operated in parts of Virginia, West Virginia, and Ohio. In terms of geographic area, it was far larger than any single promotion in the United States with the exception of the AWA, which ran from Minnesota to California and encompassed nine states (and parts of three others). The NWA — a union of promotional offices and not owned by a single entity like the AWA or WWWF — operated in at least 25 states, sharing Virginia, West Virginia, and Ohio with the WWWF and Colorado, California, and New Mexico with the AWA.

  Considering the heavy population centers such as Philadelphia, Baltimore, Boston, and, of course, New York City, it is not surprising that the WWWF possessed the most lucrative territory in the business. It received significant mainstream press from New York–based wrestling magazines and had a widespread influence. Monthly programs at Madison Square Garden, the “World’s Most Famous Arena,” were monetary windfalls for WWWF management, and Vincent J. McMahon carefully booked his events to maintain their sense of importance to area enthusiasts. For that reason, tickets for wrestling at the Garden were a hot commodity, and events were frequently sold out. By September 1980, McMahon’s company was in a much better financial position than it had been only a year before, and after taking in more than $4.1 million in total box-office receipts, it had $330,000 more in its coffers than it had at that point in 1979, with $639,000 in assets.11

  The cordiality between the WWWF, NWA, and AWA — known as the “Big Three” — grew immensely during the 1970s, and McMahon wasn’t the only promoter to feature wrestlers from all three groups. Frank Tunney in Toronto, a roundish, amiable fellow with a perpetual smile, also benefited from the cooperation. Tunney, who turned 65 in 1977, began his career as an understudy to Jack Corcoran of the old Queensbury Athletic Club in 1931 and assumed a leadership role of the territory nine years later. With an outstanding cast of wrestlers, led by the ultra-popular “Whipper” Billy Watson, Tunney built Toronto into one of the most successful and reliable wrestling cities in the world.12 Fans packed Maple Leaf Gardens, drawing immense gates, and the biggest names in the business made Tunney’s city a must for shows. And because Tunney was so well liked by fellow promoters, he received unparalleled assistance when it came to booking his events.

  The WWWF was intrinsically linked to Toronto from its earliest days as a promotion, mostly because of the widespread local popularity of its champion, Bruno Sammartino, north of the border. Between February 1964 and July 1969, Sammartino headlined the Gardens many times, earning a good payday for both himself and his handlers. Toronto was an easy flight from New York City, less than two hours, but after the Sheik took over as booker and began a lengthy reign of dominance beginning in 1969, the WWWF pulled back from its active working relationship. In 1976, Tunney renewed things with McMahon, and Sammartino made a triumphant return, followed by his title successors “Superstar” Billy Graham and Bob Backlund. Tunney also broke off with the Sheik, turning to the AWA for steady talent in October 1977, including appearances by world champion Nick Bockwinkel. A year later, Tunney locked in a new arrangement with Jim Crockett Promotions, a Mid-Atlantic-based operation. Tunney’s membership in the NWA never abated either, leaving him in the best possible position to bring quality wrestlers to Toronto.

  St. Louis was in a similar situation. Sam Muchnick was the godfather of the Alliance, and he was celebrated for the elegant way he managed the union. He was also respected for the above board way he administered the St. Louis promotion, both behind the scenes and in the ring. Muchnick fostered the belief that pro wrestling was a legitimate sport, to be covered with dignity in newspapers, and he banned gimmicky grapplers from appearing in his shows. St. Louis was always considered the headquarters of the NWA, and for talented up-and-comers to be considered for a run with the world heavyweight title, they had to perform well in Muchnick’s proving grounds. That’s where the Funks, Jack Brisco, the Von Erichs, and many others were assessed by Muchnick for their potential to be the traveling titleholder.

  For most wrestlers, St. Louis was a pleasure to work, and Muchnick brought in talent from across the NWA. In 1976, AWA owner Verne Gagne and Pat O’Connor, part owner of the Kansas City promotion, bought into Muchnick’s company, adding to the dynamics in the city. Shows often highlighted wrestlers from the AWA, Kansas City, the WWA in Indianapolis, and a number of NWA offices, demonstrating that St. Louis was one of wrestling’s most unique melting pots. Greg Gagne, Jim Brunzell, and Baron von Raschke were among the contingent imported from the AWA, while Bob Brown and Mike George were brought over from Kansas City. Dick the Bruiser, co-owner of the WWA, was routinely featured in St. Louis, and Andre the Giant was an occasional special attraction, booked from Vincent J. McMahon. Ric Flair, a skilled youngster, was introduced to St. Louis audiences in 1978, and, needless to say, he was more than impressive.

  The one other major city in North America to feature talent from each of the Big Three organizations with any consistency was Houston. Under the watchful eye of Paul Boesch, an ex-wrestler who had competed for more than three decades, Houston was a haven for superstar grapplers, big matches, and extraordinary super shows.13 Talent from throughout Texas, plus appearances by AWA champion Nick Bockwinkel, who had secretly purchased 11 percent of the office, gave the city tremendous depth. And although Boesch was never an official member of the NWA, he received regular appearances by the Alliance world champion as well.

  It is not surprising that McMahon, Tunney, Muchnick, and Boesch were on a different level than the average promoter: each was a forward-thinker and remarkably honest, bringing great credibility to their region. These promoters were beloved by their audiences for the exceptional shows they offered and by the wrestlers themselves, who were respected and paid fairly.

  McMahon booked his most valuable star, Andre the Giant, with promoters across the world, regardless of their affiliation. Standing nearly 7 feet tall and weighing more than 450 pounds, he was an unbelievable sight to behold, and in a world of behemoths, he was far and away the most extraordinary. Andre was a force of nature with stunning agility and strength, and throughout the 1970s, he toured relentlessly. “I don’t think there is [a] man in America who puts together the air miles this man does,” McMahon said about Andre in 1983. “He’s traveling every day. Two weeks ago, he was in Japan. He’s everywhere. Lucky for us, his IQ is as large as his body. He travels most of the time on his own, does everything for himself. There are guys who have to have som
eone with them all the time — I don’t think any general manager in any sport can say he has a larger collection of eccentrics than we do — but not Andre. He’ll always be there where you need him.”14

  Known as the “Boss” by his contemporaries in the locker room, Andre was a commanding personality with a sarcastic wit. He was ever-giving to fans, but the burden of always being the center of attention was taxing. It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of the ring, walking through an airport, or strolling down the street: all eyes were fixed on him. Andre carried himself well in spite of the fact that he had almost no privacy. His ability to consume massive amounts of food and drink was legendary, and one reporter claimed he usually spent four hours eating dinner, while drinking 7,000 calories of beer or wine a day. Verne Gagne remembered a story of a famous beer-drinking contest between Andre and former Olympian Chris Taylor, claiming Andre passed Taylor at 126 bottles and was still going at 147.15 To meet all of his commitments, Andre traveled in as many as 300 airplanes a year and humbly admitted, “You forget where you are sometimes.”16

  Without question, Andre was immensely important to wrestling’s resurgence from the mid- to late 1970s, and he was a crucial weapon in McMahon’s arsenal. The WWWF, which shortened its promotional name to the World Wrestling Federation (WWF) in 1979, was riding a nice high as the decade came to a close. Attendance remained consistent at Madison Square Garden, and McMahon wasn’t relying only on babyface champion Bob Backlund to pull in crowds. He padded events with Dusty Rhodes, Pat Patterson, and even Bruno Sammartino, along with a deep roster of up-and-comers. Future legends Ted DiBiase, Tito Santana, Roddy Piper, and Larry Zbyszko were given opportunities to shine on wrestling’s biggest stage. On November 19, 1979, David Von Erich made his Garden debut, defeating Davey O’Hannon in 8:47. The next month, on December 17, McMahon ran the Garden with nine matches, five of which were title affairs. NWA world champion Harley Race beat Dusty Rhodes and NWF champion Antonio Inoki was victorious over Hussein Arab. In another bout, Bob Backlund went over Bobby Duncum to capture the vacant WWF heavyweight championship.