1970 - The "Superstar" Factor

[TardisMechanic]

[Disclaimer: This is my first ever TEW diary, and I confess I'm not the best at the game. I hope my storytelling will help you stick with me through 1970 and beyond, and hopefully we'll make something of it. Can you let me know if you enjoy this first post?]

January 1st 1970
Camberwell, South London

 

It was a modest house, all things considered. Especially in this area of London. A nice little nest amongst the hubub of the city. So thought its occupant, Mick McManus. 48 years of age, jesus christ, he thought. Yet still the punters would pay through the nose to see him against Jim Breaks hell, when he felt like it, even Mr TV, Jackie Pallo. Mick picked up some old newspaper clippings, hastily cut by his family but not yet stuck to the corkboard in the kitchen. "McManus title victory", "Mick gets the jupe". It all seemed a bit far-fetched now, like a circus man putting a suit on. 

No, even now, Mick knew he could wrestle knots around them, fill out arenas in the Midlands, Wales and Scotland, and he could be anyone he wanted, beloved hero, or wicked villain. His hands pressed on the antique dressing table and his eyes met his own in the mirror, his mind racing as usual, the vague smell of London smog still in his nostrils. He had conquered the British Isles. His body was catching up, but there perhaps was another ocean in which to fish - America. 

Mick began to list the icons of the professional wrestling scene in America, Bruno Sammartino, George Steele, Freddie Blassie, Ivan Koloff, perhaps he could spend the twilight of his career among them, showing how British catch-as-catch-can wrestling still can draw a crowd? 

The only way in, would be to approach a promoter who may need some new ideas, and in the land of opportunity, his contacts may be vast indeed. 

 

Edited March 29 by TardisMechanic

[Old School Fan]

Well, now this is going to be intriguing to follow - Mick McManus heading to "the colonies" to wrestle before new audiences and to pave the way for the later arrivals of Billy Robinson, Les Thornton, Adrian Street, Dynamite Kid, etc. (just as IRL)...  🤔  Consider me subscribed.

[sonny912]

So this is gonna be like a British invasion for pro wrestling? Cool. Wonder how this will influence the industry heading into the 80's.

[TardisMechanic]

Swansea Grand Theatre
Swansea, Wales
Attendance: 300

"I need to speak to Jack."  The coolness of the phone receiver pressed on Mick McManus's cauliflowered ear. He sat in one of the few private dressing rooms in the Swansea Grand Theatre, a relic by all accounts from before his time. It seated about 300 on a good night, and even now, the wallpaper was peeling, the carpet was dulled, but Wales had always been.. 

"Mick, what's the matter? You not gone on yet?" The familiar voice of Jack Dale, light but straight to the point as usual. 

"I need out, Jack. I want to go overseas." Just saying that sentence felt like a relief. Dale Martin Promotions has provided Mick with a living for several years, and it was good money. There was an anxious pause on the other end of the phone. 

"What, like Germany? We can work something out, it might make us a bit of cash come to think of it"

"No, America."

Jack's voice hardened, unlike Mick had heard before. 

"What the f*ck are you going to do in America? It's oversaturated! It's full of play-wrestlers like whats-his-name, the wop!"

Mick had heard it all before, and despite his reputation for giving as good as he got, he sighed. "I have to go and look, not just for me, but the kids."

"Underhanded, mentioning them. Well I can't stop you, Les is going to throw a fit and want a sitdown. You'll still be working your dates mind. Maybe you can make us some money before you go gallivanting into the colonies. Just promise me one thing, Mick. Man to man."

"What's that, Jack?"

"Don't you f*cking take any of our blokes with you."
 

Edited March 30 by TardisMechanic

[Captain Kremmen]

Looks interesting. I'll be reading.

Good luck.

Also, I notice your name: TardisMechanic. Could you possible check on my Tardis? I think it's leaking oil. 🙃

[TardisMechanic]

Minneapolis-Saint Paul Airport
March 1st 1970

 

Air travel never sat well with McManus, being stuck in an aluminium tube with a hundred other people, sat far too close to him, made him uncomfortable. Funny really, his whole career was created and developed by his skill of manipulating people - there was something about planes though. Like he was trapped. 

The baggage carousel lumbered around in practiced nonchalance and his suitcase rattled to his feet, lightly packed with the essentials. Inside sat three pressed suits with a change of shirt for each, some underwear and his wrestling trunks. "Never leave home without 'em" he remembered Jack Dale telling him, "You never know when there's some money to be made."

Thankfully most of Mick's trip passed by unnoticed, save for the odd few young boys staring at him for a little too long. Wrestling magazines loudly proclaimed their authenticity as McManus walked past a newspaper kiosk. How little they knew, he thought. He stepped out into the Minneapolis air and was relieved that it was cold, air conditioning inside the airport trying frantically to stave off the chill. Turning up his collar, Mick found a payphone and rustled through his pocket for a small black book. He flipped a few pages and dropped some coins into the phone, no idea how much he had paid. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded friendly but terse. 

"This is Greg Gagne."
"Greg, this is Mick McManus, I understand your dad wants to talk to me."
"Mick.. why didn't you tell us you were flying in? We could have had a car waiting, an-"
"It's fine, I prefer to have a look around first"
"Alright, there's a restaurant called Murray's downtown, we've booked a table for 5pm."
"How am I supposed to find it?"
"Just hail a cab"
"A what?"
"A taxi, Mick, jesus."
"I'm just screwing with you, I'll be there."

The click at the other end of the line signalled the start of Mick McManus in America. First stop, Murray's restaurant, and a meeting with a World Heavyweight Champion. 

[TardisMechanic]

Murrays Restaurant
Minneapolis, Minnesota
March 1st, 1970

 

Murrays restaurant was the typical Minneapolis fare, home cooked food, served by waiters and waitresses that had been there for decades. The arrival of Mick McManus, passed with an unfamiliar indifference. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, really. A bloke from the streets of England in the cold, but friendly atmosphere of Minnesota. Wrestling in this state was a badge of honour, with legends such as Angelo Poffo, Mad Dog Vachon and Larry "The Axe" Hennig all spending time selling out arenas. However, in a humble cubicle, flanked by his son and a suited pencil-necked geek, sat Verne Gagne. He stopped devouring his chicken salad to stand, prompting the other two to do the same.

"Mick! Over here." His voice was mild and business-like, his cast iron eyes watching the man who sat before him. Mick ordered a Coke with ice and folded his hands together.

"Verne, first of all thank you for arranging this meeting. I wasn't sure how far my declaration would get."

"Oh it's ruffled some feathers" Verne replied, grinning over his sweet tea. "You picked a hell of a time to throw a hand grenade into wrestling, Mick." Both chuckled softly, interrupted by the lawyer sat on Verne's left. 

"We uh, we are prepared to offer you a performer contract, good for 6 months. Working three dates a wee-"

"Whoa whoa" McManus raised his hand, cutting the lawyer off and keeping his eyes on Verne. "I'm not really interested in doing matches. I'm here to arrange them. I can do a limited schedule if you need me to, but I'm a last resort."

Greg Gagne piped up "That's not very cost effective."

Verne mumbled to silence the table as more drinks were delivered. He took the last bite from his salad and sat back, peering at McManus. "Alright, suppose I give you a couple of shows to run, what can you do that me and Greg can't?"

"I know you value wrestling. In the UK we're starting to mix genuine catch-as-catch-can grappling with some over the top personalities. I think by toning that part down and making it believable, we could make some money." McManus sipped his Coke and sat back. "McMahon is coming, whether you like it or not. I'd rather be on the underdog side and punch up." Verne rustled a little at the statement. Greg started to speak but stopped. The proof was in the gates, the WWWF was mopping the floor with everyone else in North America, and every attempt at a collaborative had failed, aside from the NWA. 

"Alright" Verne finally said, laying his knife and fork on his plate neatly. "I'll trial you for two months, see how you do. But I won't have blading, I won't have none of that moonsault shit the Japs do, it's strictly wrestling, understood?"

Mick took a breath and nodded, "I can do something with what you have."

 

Edited May 4 by TardisMechanic