ALL IN THE FAMILY
For many decades, the professional wrestling business was a family business. Many of the regional promotions were owned and managed by various wrestling families, including the Gagnes, the Harts, the Von Erichs, the Grahams, the Crocketts, the Watts, the Funks, the Blanchards, and, of course, the McMahons. Even after the WWE took their corporate promotion worldwide, the McMahon family was heavily involved in many of the key promotional roles.
Houston Wrestling was not an exception. As you have already read, the Houston Wrestling promotion was started by the Sigel brothers, Julius and Morris. Later, their entire family became involved, including the Burkes. That proud family tradition continued when, in 1967, Paul Boesch bought the Houston Wrestling promotion and the Boesch/Birkholz families took over.
Paul Boesch and my father, John Birkholz, were always brothers to whomever they met, and more importantly, to each other. Paul Boesch had no children, so he was a caring uncle who took the Birkholz children under his wing. We were all very close, which became very important to the business of promoting Houston Wrestling.
My father John Birkholz handled the business office and worked closely with my mother, Rosalie Birkholz, in the arena box office. I started working as my uncle’s arena assistant when I was eleven years old. My brother Bill worked in various roles ranging from supervising ticket takers, selling tickets, and later as the supervisor of the wrestling merchandise sales. My sister Denise was a very valuable asset as she helped sell tickets and merchandise. My oldest brother Howard did not live in Houston and so was not able to be as involved in all the action and excitement of working in a professional wrestling promotion, but he was there when he could be.
The Birkholz family was always there for Paul Boesch. On several slow nights, we returned our pay envelopes to Paul. Family was family! We enjoyed the fun and excitement together, but we also shared the sacrifices just like so many of the other family wrestling promotions throughout the country.
It was a real blessing to have such a dedicated family as I began to promote independently in the markets surrounding Houston. My mother ran the box office, and what more could a sports promoter ask for than to have his mother handle all the cash? Many times, my father handled the critical role of head of security, which was extremely important at the live performances. He also made sure that everybody bought a ticket, which was quite a challenge when you traveled to a new market as the Out-of-Town promoter. He also had the demanding job of working with the local police to make sure that neither wrestlers nor fans got hurt. My brother Bill handled the ticket takers and the merchandise sales. My sister Denise helped sell tickets and filled in wherever she was needed.
Even after they had put in a hard day’s work at their regular jobs, my family was there for me. We all piled into the big travel van and spent hours driving to far-away arenas. Sometimes we would not get back home until 1:00 or 2:00 am. Then my supportive family had to teach and work the next day with little sleep. Sometimes we ran two or three consecutive nights. What amazes me is that they still talk to me! I was truly blessed to have such a wonderful and supportive family, and I will always be grateful for the way they were there for me and for the Houston Wrestling Promotion.
I am sure this same gratitude is felt by dozens of professional wrestling promoters, who through the many decades of promoting professional wrestling were also blessed with supportive families. Three cheers and hats off to the hundreds of family members and friends around the nation who helped family wrestling promotions thrive and survive. Their sacrifices and dedication enabled us, the promoters, to enjoy the spotlight of success. It was indeed a family business!
Many other individuals worked the regional promotions and became so-called extended members of the promotional family. The Houston Wrestling promotion was blessed to have many of those very special people, including John and Gigi Lampson, Hank, Darlene, and Denice Snow, Melvin Clemons, Mr. Torres, Pat Malone, and Herman Sporn.
There was Roger Cody, who for over twenty-five years was the head usher at the wrestling matches. Roger was also a dedicated Shriner. Each week, he used his pay envelope to buy souvenirs and refreshments for the small children in the crowd.
There were Pat Hatchell and Thomas Fooshee, who for decades were our ring seconds, always there to support the wrestlers and take their robes back to the dressing room once the match had started.
There was J.C. Bankston and the hundreds of other Houston Police officers, who through all the years worked the wrestling matches keeping everyone safe.
There were the colorful ringside announcers like Boyd Pierce, Clete Dumpster, Bob Stephenson and race car promoter Ed Hamblen.
There were the loyal television sponsors like Mr. Norman, I.W. Marks, Eddie’s Mobile Homes, Levitz Jewelers, Fingers Furniture, and, most famous of all, Jim McIngvale of Gallery Furniture. For many years, McIngvale has talked about how he got his business started by being a sponsor of the Houston Wrestling television show. It did not take long for Jim to have Houston Wrestling fans convinced that he was indeed the man who could “Save You Money!”
There was also the Nelson Family, who were very involved with the Houston Wrestling promotion. Gil Nelson was the head engineer for the Channel 39 remote production truck. Clare was a long time medic for the wrestlers, and their daughter Alice was a big help both at the ticket office and as an official photographer of the Houston Wrestling promotion.
Finally, I want to give a very special salute to John and Gigi Lampson for their many years of dedicated service. Gigi’s sister, Michelle Serna, also deserves a very special thank you. John was extremely valuable to the Houston Wrestling promotion when he managed the ticket office during its later years. They are very good friends and provided tremendous support to the Houston Wrestling promotion and to me.
MEN OF HONOR
During the twenty-five years that I was in the professional wrestling business, wrestlers and promoters worked together under a code of honor. You respected that code and expected the people you worked with to abide by it as well. And they did. Your word was your bond and your handshake was your contract.
Having been involved in over a thousand professional wrestling shows, I witnessed countless occasions on which that the code of honor was severely tested. Yet no matter how tough the test, the code always prevailed. Whether it was a wrestler or a promoter, the result was still the same. The code was respected and followed.
If a wrestler gave a promoter a date, he would be there. If a promoter made an agreement with a wrestler, he would honor that agreement no matter what the situation. As a promoter, I would book an arena, commit to an advertising campaign, print the tickets, book other wrestlers, hire staff, and make other financial commitments solely on the word of a wrestler. It did not make any difference if that verbal commitment was made in person, on the phone, or some other means of communication. The business survived on that code for many decades, until it was forced to change in an ever-shifting world.
My favorite example of the code is booking Andre the Giant. Andre would simply come up to me in the dressing room and pull out his calendar book. He asked if I was interested in having him come work a certain date. That future date could be as far away as six to eight months. Of course I was always interested and verbally agreed. We wrote the date down in our respective calendar books and that made it official. I would not talk to Andre or have any other communications with him all those months. He traveled around the world wrestling for dozens of other promoters in front of millions of wrestling fans, but I knew Andre the Giant would show up on his date. I did not hesitate to advertise, whether it was on radio, in newspapers, or on television that Andre the Giant was coming to Houston Wrestling. I stood in front of the television cameras and put my reputation on the line, telling Houston Wrestling fans that they should get their tickets early!
That date came and I had an arena jam-packed with wrestling fans ready to see Andre the Giant. Sure enough, Andre walked into that dressing
room whether he had to fly in from Japan, Europe, or a major market in the United States. I knew he would be there. He knew I would honor my end of the agreement by having him in a top match and doing everything I could to draw a great crowd so that he would have a great pay-off. Our word was our bond. Those were the good old days.
The code of honor went beyond verbal booking commitments. It also included the unwritten commitment that promoters and wrestlers made to each other as they worked together to do what was best for the business. Promoters made every effort to promote the shows and draw as many fans as possible. Wrestlers made every effort to help the promoter draw fans by putting on a great show when the ring lights turned on. There were times I reached into my wallet and paid wrestlers more than their percentages when the box office receipts had suffered through a slow night. There were times wrestlers taped up broken hands, broken bones, or other painful injuries so that they could wrestle. They made those sacrifices so that the town and reputation of the promoter was not hurt by substitutions. The code of honor was not just a convenience. It was the backbone of the professional wrestling business. Over twenty years later, I still feel a great wave of gratitude to all the wrestlers who wrestled hurt or gave a great show even on nights that the gates were low. They were truly men of honor.
No story is complete unless it includes people and events that go beyond the call of honor and duty. Houston Wrestling, like so many regional promotions, firmly believed that you should always give back to the community. There are so many stories about Morris Sigel’s kind heart and, of course, Paul Boesch left a tremendous legacy of helping others. However, there are also hundreds of stories concerning the wrestlers themselves. Time will not allow me to tell them all, but there are a few I would to like to share with my heart full of pride.
“Nature Boy” Ric Flair is one of the most colorful and outstanding wrestlers of our time. Many of you are aware of his many accomplishments in wrestling, including the historic number of times he won the NWA World Heavyweight Title. He is a tremendous athlete and a record-setting box office attraction. What many of you do not know is that he is also a man with a heart of gold that matches the gold championship belts he has often worn around his waist. I have witnessed firsthand numerous acts of kindness on his part. The following is my favorite Ric Flair story.
A teenage Houston Wrestling fan was stricken with cystic fibrosis. This young man was determined to not let his illness stop him from living life and came to the wrestling matches as often as possible, whenever he was not in the hospital. He was a big Houston Wrestling fan, and even bigger Ric Flair fan.
One Friday morning, his parents called the wrestling ticket office. They told me that he was in the hospital and was not expected to come back out. I expressed my sadness and asked if there was anything I could do to help. They told me, “No, thank you, it is now in the hands of the Lord.” After hanging up, I realized maybe there was something I could do.
That night, we were having a huge wrestling show at the Coliseum, and World Champion Ric Flair was flying in to defend his title. I called the hospital and they gave me the phone number of the teenage wrestling fan’s hospital room. I prayed that Ric Flair would understand and put the phone number into my coat pocket.
I knew that Flair was coming in on a very long flight and would be tired. He would also need a lot of time to get ready for his big match. Nevertheless, I determined to ask him for a very special favor. As Ric walked into the dressing room, I quickly approached him and started to tell the story. When I explained this young man’s battle with cystic fibrosis, Ric took the phone number out of my hand. I didn't even finish the story. He put his bag down, went to the nearest phone booth, and had a long conversation with this special young wrestling fan. It was a class act.
That Monday morning, we received a call from the parents. Sadly, our courageous wrestling fan had passed away. They talked about how their son bragged to the doctors and nurses all weekend about how World Heavyweight Champion Ric Flair had called him personally to wish him well. They wanted to thank me, Paul Boesch, and most importantly, Ric Flair. Flair spent years bragging on television networks around the world that “To be the Man, you must beat the Man!” After that Friday night, in my mind, Ric Flair will always be “The Man.”
But the wrestler who may have done more than any other in the world was Andre the Giant. Wrestling promoters around the globe billed him as “The Eighth Wonder of the World.” Time and time again, he made himself available to Paul Boesch and me to visit children hospitals, schools, and centers for handicapped children. Any place where he could touch the hearts of kids, the giant was there. This was a man who traveled around the world and wrestled over 325 times a year. Although his time was valuable, he would never pass up the opportunity to help a child no matter what the situation. He always spotted children in wheelchairs in the arena and asked me to bring them back to the dressing room, where he would visit with them and sign their wrestling programs, much to the kids’ delight. He made them feel very special.
Andre passed away on January 27, 1993. The world lost a giant of a man, and heaven gained a huge treasure. I am confident that the Lord found room in Heaven for Andre--every inch and every pound. I wish I would have had one more moment with him so that I could have thanked him once more, not only for myself, but also for the millions of people whose lives he touched. Goodbye Andre, and may the Lord be with you. No one will be able to fill your giant footprints.
Wahoo McDaniel was another Houston Wrestling superstar with a generous heart. He constantly made himself available for appearances at public schools and local hospitals. One story, which remains very special to me, takes place when we made a trip together to the Center for the Mentally Retarded in Houston.
I drove out to the airport to pick up Wahoo, who was flying in from the east coast. A hard worker, he sometimes wrestled seven to ten matches a week. He was one of the busiest in the business, and, this particular morning, he was exhausted. I asked if he was still willing to make his appearance at the Center for the Mentally Retarded, or if he wanted to go straight to the motel to rest. I will never forget the look he gave me before he said that he would never disappoint those children.
We arrived at the back of the Center for the Mentally Retarded, next to the door to the big assembly room. Wahoo stepped out of the car and quickly put on his Indian headdress. You would not believe the huge roar that came from the handicapped children when we entered the room. Wahoo immediately went into his famous Indian war dance, and the cheers from the children became deafening. They rushed towards Wahoo with smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes, overwhelmed that Indian Chief Wahoo McDaniel came to visit and did his war dance just for them!
It has been said that the Lord will always compensate any disadvantages we may have. In the case of handicapped children, I have witnessed how the Lord compensates them by putting more love into their hearts than many us could ever pray for. The children stood in line to hug and kiss Wahoo. You should have seen the outpouring of love from all those kids, and how Wahoo hugged and kissed them back. Even as I tell this story over twenty-five years later, I still get a very emotional lump in my throat. Thanks, Wahoo--not only from all the special children at the Center for the Mentally Retarded, but also from a young wrestling promoter who discovered a whole new meaning of love that day.
These were only three of the hundreds of stories of Houston Wrestling stars who gave their time and part of their lives to improve the lives of others. For nearly a century, the Houston Wrestling promotion, through its wrestlers, personnel and promoters, gave back to the community. It was always done with affection and appreciation.
THE LAST CHAPTER
After the Paul Boesch Retirement Extravaganza was over, there was no time to consider the significant changes that were taking place, because there was too much work to do. As part of the arrangement with Vince McMahon, I was to stay on for a couple more live matches to help with the transition from the traditional Houst
on Wrestling promotion to the new WWF promotion. It was quite an experience to witness the transition firsthand--definitely out with the old and in with the new. The WWF had its own philosophy and way of doing things. Who could argue? They were a very successful organization and believed in their methods and approaches.
Paul Boesch and I had agreed that Vince and the WWF could use our well-established wrestling ticket office at 1919 Caroline during the transition. Now that ticket office, which had one of the most famous addresses in the Houston sports world, is gone, replaced by a multi-level parking garage for St. Joseph Hospital. It was too hard for Boesch to come to the office during the transition. I did not blame him because it was difficult for me as well. If it was not for the fact that I had given my word to Vince McMahon that I would help, I would not have been there either.
One day, shortly after the transition, Paul Boesch and I were at the office preparing to shut it down once and for all. Boesch had already sold the property to St. Joseph Hospital. Though he had an entire year to vacate the premises, psychologically it did him good to start the long and emotional process of closing the office then. We spent just as much time talking and laughing about the good old days as we did actually working. Every picture off the wall and every piece of furniture moved launched my uncle into another story. Looking back, I realize now it was part of the process of saying goodbye.
Several incidents provided much-needed comic relief. One time when I was on the ladder taking a picture of the great Milo Steinborn off the highest spot on the wall, my hands slipped and the picture crashed to the floor. Paul Boesch picked up the photo and frame. There was not a single scratch on either of them, despite the loud landing. My uncle burst out laughing and said, “Milo always knew how to take a great bump”.
Another time, Boesch was on the ladder taking down the 1919 Caroline sign above the front door of the wrestling ticket office. Boesch said, “I wish I had a nickel for every time I mentioned this address on the air. I could retire.”
When Wrestling Was Rasslin' Page 22