Death of the Territories

by Tim Hornbaker

  The WUTV (channel 29) program in Buffalo also broadcast across the Canadian border to Toronto. Local promoter Frank Tunney had worked with the McMahons for years, and the TV exposure gave the WWF heightened leverage. In 1982, Backlund was showcased in Toronto five times alongside Jim Crockett workers, and the bonds between the Tunney, Crockett, and McMahon offices were exceptionally robust. Toronto fans enjoyed the diversity of performers, and Tunney was coining his own mint. The WWF’s reacquisition of Buffalo was a pivotal move, demonstrative of the younger McMahon’s broad understanding of the wrestling scene.

  His determination to expand was better defined by his next major move, and in 1982, he reached out to Mike LeBell in Los Angeles, one of his father’s most trustworthy associates, and sought a meeting. The 52-year-old LeBell was more than willing to hear McMahon out. In recent years, his promotion had fallen on hard times, and was a far cry from Southern California’s glory days. In 1952, Hollywood had been witness to a historic show headlined by Lou Thesz and Baron Michele Leone, drawing the sport’s then-largest gate in history, a whopping $103,277. Fred Blassie and John Tolos topped that mark on August 27, 1971, at the Memorial Coliseum with $142,158 paid into the till. The NAWA and later the WWA had been the cornerstone of Los Angeles wrestling between 1958 and 1968, and the success continued under the NWA banner through the first half of the 1970s.

  LeBell went into a funk after KCOP-13 canceled his TV program around 1974, and then he lost his outlet on KBSC-52 in 1980. A Spanish-speaking channel, KMEX (channel 34), became his only reliable means to reach a widespread TV audience, and although it was better than nothing, the UHF station wasn’t available to all viewers. He tried to boost attendance by importing talent from Mexico, and the masked sensation Mil Mascaras was a frequent headliner at the Olympic Auditorium. But despite some spikes in crowd size, things were flat for the most part with wrestling-smart fans not buying LeBell’s unenthusiastic efforts and new fans few and far between. He also faced a rent increase at the Olympic and eventually moved over to the Sports Arena.40

  With McMahon trying to arrange a meeting, there were interesting prospects for an expanded relationship between the WWF and Los Angeles, a move that could seriously benefit both promotions. The WWF’s glitzy performers were guaranteed to dazzle the region that once showcased the flamboyant Gorgeous George, and relished in his showmanship. Wrestling insiders might’ve figured a WWF takeover of Los Angeles was far-fetched, but looking at the modified status of Columbus, Buffalo, Cleveland, and Detroit, each an individual territory at one point, demonstrated that anything was possible. And with cable television giving fans a view of outside promotions, beamed directly into their living rooms, in a weird way, it appeared that pro wrestling was shrinking and growing all at the same time.

  Chapter Four

  Southern California

  Across the wrestling world, promoters went to great lengths to insulate their territories from all types of adverse contingencies, and they were ever-creative in their manipulations. In dealing with talent, they often exercised pressure to maintain loyalty, and the notorious blacklist, however unfeasible it might have legitimately been, was considered an unspoken part of the business. NWA members benefited from the security of the union, and a fundamental component of the old territory system was the relationships between wrestling offices and local government. That included the state athletic commissions, which acted as a supervisory body for wrestling in those regions. The athletic commission authorized promotional licenses in most cases, and they could obstruct the licensing of any competitor the NWA member wanted, thereby preventing an invasion.

  In Los Angeles, the Eaton-LeBell family was politically connected all the way up to the California governor in the 1950s, and they held a tight monopoly over heavyweight wrestling and boxing in southern California.41 They were faced with a number of challengers at different times, only to stomp out their competition with help from the commission or by calling the NWA for reinforcements. By the early 1980s, Mike LeBell had more than 30 years’ experience as a wrestling administrator at the Olympic Auditorium and had served as an officer in the NWA and as part of the group’s board of directors. But his tenure in Los Angeles was losing a little more steam each year, and his own lack of motivation was partially to blame.

  Despite solid talent-sharing agreements, LeBell was struggling to put his weekly lineups together. He’d imported some of the greatest names in the world for years, but between 1980 and 1982, he was failing to highlight talent worthy of the third-biggest U.S. market. Paying wrestlers poorly was part of it, as LeBell was known for giving talent a percentage of the gate, rather than guaranteed sums. With souring interest and weak houses, Los Angeles was anything but a lure for top-name grapplers. Only years before, LeBell had taken part in the behind-the-scenes wrangling of the infamous Muhammad Ali–Antonio Inoki contest in Tokyo, a multimillion-dollar affair, but now his wrestling operation was on its last legs.

  LeBell knew Vince McMahon Jr. well. He’d been working with the McMahons for years, cycling wrestlers, and cooperating mostly because Los Angeles TV was being shown in New York on the local Spanish International Network (SIN) channel. That was essentially the reason the New York and Los Angeles offices first came together, and the benefits of a strong relationship far outweighed the negatives. In addition, they shared a connection to Inoki’s New Japan, and their wrestlers went back and forth to Asia with regularity. Looking a little deeper into the business relations between McMahon Sr. and LeBell, it is clear they were much more than fleeting acquaintances.

  LeBell and McMahon Sr. actually formed a joint company, the Atlantic and Pacific Wrestling Corporation, established in Washington, D.C., on May 5, 1976. Phil Zacko, a shareholder of Capitol Wrestling before it was sold to the younger McMahon, explained during a 1984 deposition that the Atlantic and Pacific Wrestling Corporation made $19,000 at one juncture from the distribution of tapes.42 He added, though, that it was split between McMahon and LeBell, and as far as McMahon was concerned, it was absorbed by expenses, leaving no profit. The two promoters called each other multiple times a week, sharing stories and relaying gate numbers, and when McMahon was preparing to venture to Japan, he made arrangements through LeBell’s office.43 In 1982, LeBell got word that McMahon Jr. was taking over Capitol’s territory, and with his own promotion’s future in doubt, he consented to a meeting that would alter the destiny of pro wrestling in Los Angeles.

  The conference between McMahon Jr. and LeBell occurred in the middle of the country, at a coffee shop at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago in October 1982. At that meeting, they discussed the current state of affairs, leading into a formal decision allowing McMahon’s Titan Sports to purchase LeBell’s interest in three separate entities.44 The first was the latter’s entire wrestling promotion, incorporated as Mike LeBell Sports, and the price tag was $520,000. This included all promotional rights to the Los Angeles territory, extending from the Olympic Auditorium to Hollywood and down to San Diego. For an additional $520,000, McMahon acquired full control of both the Atlantic and Pacific Wrestling Corporation and the LeBell–McMahon TV setup. The deal allowed McMahon to pay LeBell in weekly installments of $2,000 for 10 years.45

  LeBell would remain employed as the WWF’s official representative on the ground in southern California. He’d give interviews to promote shows, book undercard performers, and use his political contacts when needed. The agreement was huge for McMahon, but there was still one obstacle he needed to straighten out before the WWF could formally move into the territory. That hurdle was the acquisition of a local television station to bolster publicity in advance of live events. LeBell had struggled for years to attain a major English-speaking outlet for his programs, and although McMahon expressed a desire to land one, the veteran Los Angeles promoter felt it was impossible.46

  But McMahon had two things going for him. For one, he was close with influential people at WOR-TV, and as luck would have it, WOR’s pa
rent company, RKO General, also owned a powerful independent station in Los Angeles, channel 9, KHJ-TV (now KCAL). It wasn’t long before McMahon was on a plane to Los Angeles to take a meeting with KHJ executives, where he promised to deliver a first-class wrestling production on a weekly basis. The other thing McMahon had up his sleeve was an incredible proposal, almost too good for any businessman to pass up. He offered to pay KHJ $2,500 a week for a Saturday morning timeslot, amounting to $130,000 annually.47

  Wrestling promotions doling out money to stations for air time used to be a foreign concept. In fact, in the 1950s, promoters expected to be heavily compensated with advertising dollars, but when ratings went down, station managers didn’t hesitate to eliminate wrestling from their schedules. To regain position on a popular channel, promoters had to pay the stations, and WOR was a perfect example. The WWF was paying WOR $1,750 a week to broadcast Championship Wrestling on Saturday nights, and had been doing so for years.48 There is little doubt LeBell, like many of his old-school brethren, still expected to be paid for any kind of TV efforts. But McMahon didn’t expect to make a dime. He saw TV as a promotional expense to boost the gates of live shows, and for that reason, his pitch to KHJ was successful. Beginning January 1, 1983, Championship Wrestling would be featured on Saturday mornings at 9:30 throughout southern California.

  The acquisition of Los Angeles was McMahon’s biggest expansion yet, and he was paying more for it than he had to purchase Capitol Wrestling. Looking back east, he was only holding part of the far eastern edge of Ohio in 1982, promoting sporadically in Steubenville and Hubbard. But the extensive viewing area reached by WOR on cable opened up the same opportunities for McMahon as TBS had for Georgia Championship Wrestling. McMahon was eyeing Akron, Cincinnati, and Dayton, in addition to several smaller towns. Notably, Jim Barnett, a shareholder of GCW and secretary of the NWA, addressed the potential dangers of cable “superstations” (which WOR and TBS both were) at the 1982 NWA convention in Puerto Rico.49

  According to the meeting minutes, Barnett deflected criticism by stating that GCW had “nothing to do” with the decision to broadcast his promotion’s show nationally. It was the station’s prerogative, and he relayed the rumor that the AWA would soon be featured on WGN, out of Chicago, on a nationwide basis. He “announced his willingness to use good wrestlers then working for other promoters on his WTBS shows, either as live performers or through tapes.” As a result, he could offer a grappler “broad exposure and effectively promote his appearance in any market where WTBS [had] a significant cable audience interested in wrestling. This [benefited] the promoter using the wrestler in that market.”50 The generous offer was seemingly a product of widespread NWA unity, and members saw the benefits of working with Barnett and GCW to feature their stars on WTBS.

  Not everything was ironed out and Barnett scheduled a special television seminar for October 11, 1982, in Atlanta to bring everyone up to speed. He later canceled the meeting because the Atlanta Braves appeared to be headed to the World Series and the date conflicted.51 The TV questions were sustained through the end of 1982, and Barnett, who was no stranger to making waves in the world of wrestling, was rumored to be organizing a wider expansion. But behind the scenes, Barnett and his booker, Ole Anderson, were realizing their promotion was overextended financially, and instead of rapid, dramatic growth, they needed to cut expenses. Nevertheless, the GCW show, which was renamed World Championship Wrestling in August 1982, remained one of the highest-rated programs on cable TV.

  Another cable TV show with far-reaching influence was launched on the USA Network on December 5, 1982, run by ex-wrestler Joe Blanchard out of San Antonio. Blanchard, who began his career in 1953, was well liked by his peers for his kindly manner. He was a solid grappler on the mat with amateur knowledge, and at the height of his wrestling tenure, traveled upwards of 2,500 miles per week. He settled in San Antonio as an associate of longtime promoter Frank Brown in 1964 and took over the business during the mid-1970s.52 In 1978, after things turned sour between Blanchard and Jack Adkisson (better known as Fritz Von Erich and the owner of Texas’s largest booking office in Dallas), Blanchard formed his own independent promotion, Southwest Championship Wrestling.53 He continued to show a high level of cooperation with friends across the wrestling landscape, and gave fans in his territory great shows thanks to his years of experience as a matchmaker.

  Southwest Championship Wrestling was known for its violence and bloody battles. “We make money with chain matches and bullrope matches and cage matches and dog-collar matches,” Blanchard told a reporter in 1982 after there was a complaint about the riotous nature of his live shows. “The wrestlers know what they are doing with those items. They know what the risks are. They’re trained and they’re strong and they’re tough and it would cost us money to have these things taken away from us and it would cost the fans excitement.”54 Blanchard was never shy about waging war, and his hostilities with Adkisson were consistent. In late 1982, shortly before his USA program debut, his longtime alliance with Paul Boesch in Houston ended, giving him a second conflict in Texas.

  Boesch and Adkisson shared concern about Blanchard’s SCW cable program — and they were right to worry. The San Antonio promoter planned to expand, not only in Texas, but in several other states as well. In fact, he might’ve had coast-to-coast aspirations, but Blanchard was in a tough position from day one. His USA Network deal was reportedly $7,000 a week, and unless his investment began to pay serious dividends, his financial situation was slowly going to deteriorate. One of the first territories Blanchard considered for takeover was Tulsa, Oklahoma, a region with an exceptionally rich history in pro wrestling.

  It was in the 1920s, during the heyday of Ed “Strangler” Lewis, that Tulsa became a major wrestling town. The incomparable Sam Avey, a banker by trade, established a professional outfit featuring the best in the business. By the 1930s, he shifted his focus to nonheavyweight competitors, building his promotion around a local grappler, Leroy McGuirk. A product of Oklahoma A&M, McGuirk won an NCAA championship in 1931 and had several reigns as world light heavyweight titleholder in the professional ranks. In 1939, he became world junior heavyweight champion, a title he held for more than 10 years until a car accident cost him his sight.55 When Avey retired, McGuirk took over the Tulsa promotion and was a loyal NWA member for three decades.

  Tulsa had been a symbol of stability for the NWA too, and the downward slide McGuirk faced in the late 1970s and early ’80s was caused by several factors. As noted earlier, because of its location, Tulsa was being affected by several outside television programs, specifically those in Dallas (Adkisson) and Memphis (Jerry Jarrett). Cable TV added to the problem, bringing in the WWF, GCW/WCW, and, in 1982, SCW. McGuirk simply couldn’t compete with the extraordinary talent, high production values, and creativity of those promotions. He tried to stay relevant by hiring George Scott, recently of Mid-Atlantic and GCW fame, as his booker, and propped up well-known stars Jimmy Snuka and Paul Jones as headliners.56 But problems with workers, and an assortment of varied challenges, including the loss of a key venue in Little Rock, slowly pushed McGuirk’s business past the point of no return.57

  The wolves were circling Tulsa, and Joe Blanchard was joined by both Jack Adkisson and “Cowboy” Bill Watts, waiting for McGuirk to go belly-up. Of the three, Watts was in the best position. He was an Oklahoma native, personally trained by McGuirk to turn professional in 1961, and was a headliner all over the country. Weighing more than 270 pounds, Watts had first made a name for himself on the football field, playing several years in the AFL and NFL. Around 1970, he settled in the Tulsa area and joined the promotional end of McGuirk’s franchise, running shows in Oklahoma, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and parts of Texas. For the next nine years, Watts worked in conjunction with McGuirk, and bolstered wrestling in New Orleans to the point where it overtook Tulsa as the territory’s main city.

  Six extravaganzas at the Louisiana Superdome w
ere enormously successful. His July 22, 1978, show drew one of the largest gates of the decade, over $142,000, and with popular attractions like Dusty Rhodes, Andre the Giant, and Mr. Wrestling II appearing regularly, fans were always eager for the next show. The following year, realizing the potential for his own territory, Watts broke from McGuirk’s office and established Mid-South Sports Inc., retaining ties to the NWA but without formal membership in the Alliance. He continued promoting in Louisiana and Mississippi, leaving McGuirk with his original three states (Oklahoma, Missouri, and Arkansas). By 1982, with McGuirk fading, Watts wanted to annex Oklahoma. He landed a prime network timeslot in Tulsa on KJRH (channel 2) for Saturdays at noon and made his debut at the Assembly Center beginning in May 1982.

  McGuirk’s promotion couldn’t compete against the Junkyard Dog, Ted DiBiase, Dick Murdock, Paul Orndorff, and the rest of Mid-South’s extraordinary talent, and it went out of business. As tribute to his mentor, Watts scheduled a special gala event in honor of McGuirk on July 18, 1982, in Tulsa, and longtime supporters paid homage to the legendary promoter. But as much as Watts seemed to be the logical successor to McGuirk in Oklahoma, Jack Adkisson of the Dallas-based World Class Championship Wrestling wanted his say in who ran the state. He’d been edging into Oklahoma on his own, and his prize crew of wrestlers headlined by his sons — David, Kevin, and Kerry Von Erich — were heavy favorites. Watts and Adkisson came to a peaceful resolution on July 21, 1982, and agreed to divide the profits on shows in Tulsa and Oklahoma City.58