dagosd2000 wrote:
You know, Blears's son was a world champion surfer. I don't think he learned that from his dad.
Dagos, It looks like he well may have.
Concerning Lord Blears::
When Wrestling Was King
The Hawaii All-Collectors Show 2005 this weekend is the place to be for 50th State Big Time Wrestling fans
Friday - July 22, 2005 Steve Murray
http://www.midweek.com/content/story/th ... _was_king/
Wrestler Curtis “The Bull” Iaukea and Wayne Nishimoto of Hawaii Nostalgia Studio
From 1962 to ’74 the Civic Auditorium was the place to be on Wednesday evenings. Friday night and Saturday afternoon were reserved for KGMB replays and the state’s first regionally produced live broadcast program.
The 50th State Big Time Wrestling was more than just a TV show and something to fill the entertainment void in the middle of the week.
It was the event. Big men. Even bigger stars. Loved and hated. Men capable of drawing the awe of young boys and the irritation of old women. And everyone had their favorite. Curtis “The Bull” Iaukea, Ripper Collins, Tosh Togo, Johnny Berand, Chief Billy White Wolf, Nick Bockwinkle, The Masked Executioner, Sam Steamboat, Neff Maiawa and of course, possibly
the most influential person in Hawaii wrestling, Lord James “Tally Ho” Blears.
For a teenage Ilene Wong, it was The Missing Link who got her blood going.
“I remember watching him on TV and he was my favorite. I guess I was kind of disappointed that I didn’t become Mrs. Missing Link,” says Wong, who along with partner Wayne Maeda is producing the Hawaii All-Collectors Show 2005 at the Blaisdell Saturday and Sunday. The show will feature a special display recalling the golden age of wrestling in Hawaii.
Maybe it was his wild hair, his Argentinean accent or the seven languages he spoke — Pampero Firpo was the man of her dreams and a fantasy come to life.
“They were the superheroes and villains of D.C. Comics come to life, and in our own back yard,” says Wong. “Bigger-than-life, outrageous characters in a grand soap opera every Wednesday night.”
Professional wrestling gained a foothold in Hawaii in the 1930s. But it wasn’t until promoter Ed Francis took over the Hawaii region of the National Wrestling Alliance in 1962 that things really start rolling. Francis, father of former NFL tight end Russ Francis, was a champion wrestler in his own right, winning individual titles three times between 1959 and 1973, and tag team belts with Pedro Morales in 1969, in ’70 with Billy Robinson and in ’73 with Ripper Collins.
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Harry Suga, fight card artist
With Francis as promoter,
Blears as wrestler, announcer and bookmaker, and a stable of colorful characters, wrestling became popular and influential. Hawaii wrestlers invented gimmicks still in use today, such as the locker room interview and the cage match, after Blears became tired of The Masked Executioner cowardly ducking him after carefully planned assaults.
As with any wrestling promotion, the fans’ role is as critical as the wrestlers themselves. At the Civic it was no different.
“They came up with better stuff than we did,” Blears says of the people who found creative ways to get the wrestlers’ attention. For some it meant throwing things into the ring. For others, it was more vocal. Even a bit nasty. And age was no factor. Everyone got into it. The most remembered of these tireless fans was a group of older women who regularly attended the matches and vented their frustration. No doubt the loving matriarchs of their families, these aunties were not to be messed with.
“They would yell at me ‘get up you fat ****,’” laughed Iaukea. “They would give me the finger.”
Iaukea remembers one night when an audience member was giving him a particularly hard time.
“My auntie, she one big wahine, 5 feet 10 inches, 220 pounds. She climbed over people and started scrapping. Everybody stopped and watched my auntie get going!”
For her efforts, The Bull’s aunt was banned from the arena, a fact that didn’t escape the memory of those who attended her funeral three weeks ago. They all remembered and talked about the night when she moved to protect her 330-pound nephew.
Laura Blears, Lord’s daughter, can also attest to fans’ memories regarding local wrestling.
“One time I was flying on Hawaiian Airlines and this lady asked me ‘is your dad Lord Blears?’ She said, ‘your father is a household name around my house. My grandmother, we had to tell her to calm down, she got so upset. We couldn’t let her go anymore.’”
The Blears family came to Hawaii in 1955 when he was booked to wrestle and to recuperate from injuries. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he had just found his new home, especially after finding a place in the Steiner Building which sat on the grounds of the current Waikiki police station.
“That’s when we fell in love with Hawaii,” Blears says.
Most wrestlers are divided into two camps: heels and babyfaces. And for 50th State Wrestling fans, it was hard to find one more hated than Ripper Collins. Collins demanded everyone call him “King.” The fans responded with “The Yellow Rat.” They even bought rubber rodents which they painted and would hurl at him while he entered the ring. How could they not? He gave no respect and he received none. Especially the way he mangled Hawaiian words. Hilo became High low, Kauai was Kwa, and Maui was Moo-wee. Fans hated it. Blears loved it. The gimmick began simple enough. During a taping Blears gave Collins a list of cities being visited. Collins, with his deep Southern accent, asked about Hilo, mispronouncing it. Blears saw gold and told him never to change it. He knew local fans didn’t want to hear this haole butchering local names. He was right.
But if Collins was hated, perhaps no one inspired more fear than Iaukea. In his prime, The Bull wrestled at what Blears describes as “300 pounds of pure muscle who didn’t mind getting hurt.” “Oh, man, I swear, he was so big. You just didn’t take any chances,” says Wayne Nishimoto, owner of Hawaii Nostalgia Studio and one of the main people bringing the 50th State Big Time Wrestling exhibit to the collectors’ show. “The presence he showed. You just got the hell out of the way.”
Escorted by police in and out of the building, no one had a chance to ask The Bull for an autograph. Few even dared. But thanks to Nishimoto and many others, it’s going to be much easier — and safer. From 1 to 3 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, Curtis will be at the collectors’ show recalling his days at the Civic, while meeting fans and yes, even signing autographs, all to raise funds for the Alzheimer’s Association. In addition to autographs and photos, T-shirts and a limited number of prints featuring the old Civic Auditorium will be on sale. “This is a very rare opportunity to get his signature,” Nishimoto says.
When Nishimoto was first approached to help out with the show, the promoters asked him to try to find the fight card artist to duplicate the original wrestling posters. So he called his friend Harry Suga, the longtime letter person for Royal Amusement Theaters. “That was me,” said Suga, who offered his talents to support the Alzheimer’s Association fundraising effort.
http://www.midweek.com/content/story/th ... _was_king/
Curtis “The Bull” Iaukea with Lord “Tally Ho” Blears
Janet Eli, the president and CEO of the Alzheimer’s Association, Aloha Chapter, says Alzheimer’s currently affects 28,000 people in Hawaii — and the number is growing.
Eli says Alzheimer’s affects one in 10 people over the age of 65, and that nearly 50 percent of people 85 or older suffer from the disease. The Honolulu office at Ward Warehouse helps victims and families with a number of programs which include education, support, free home visits, caregiver workshops, training for healthcare providers and an identification program that can help locate missing family members.
Eli, who admits to watching wrestling with her grandfather in Florida — he preferred women’s wrestling and she’s a sumo afficionado — says the association is holding a Memory Walk fundraiser Sept. 10. You can get involved by calling 591-2771.
A recent meeting between Iaukea and Blears was a reunion of two friends who share experiences few could relate. Iaukea, armed with three bottles of peaches, embraced his friend. A few quiet conversations follow. Words of encouragement between men who’ve been through many battles, the dessert having a very special meaning.
Lord James Ranicar Blears was a radio officer on a merchant ship in World War II. While underway, the ship was hit by Japanese torpedoes and sent to the bottom. After being pulled from the water, the sailors were bound together and the real horror began. The captors began killing the young men, cutting off their heads with swords. Blears, who was an Olympic caliber swimmer, jumped into the water with the man he was tied to and dove as far as he could. Over and over Blears dove under a hail of automatic gun fire until the sub had moved far enough away. Swimming back to the wreckage he found something to cling to and waited for help, which came in the form of a U.S. destroyer. The Americans gave him a can of peaches, his first meal in three days. Each year on the anniversary of that day he enjoys a can of peaches. For Iaukea, it’s more a gift of thanks for his sacrifice and friendship to the man who introduced him to the business almost 50 years ago.
It was a lifestyle that came with a warning.
“He told me, ‘Curtis, you’re going to be a tremendous success in the business side of your life, but be prepared to be a hell of a flop in your personal life and don’t ever blame me for it,’” Iaukea says. Though he hasn’t forgotten his friend’s warning, he wouldn’t change a thing. Wrestling took him from Hawaii to Italy, Japan, India, Australia, France and once on a trip around the world.
For those wanting to take part in the fun, there was one place to go: Timmy’s Gym.
“Timmy Leong’s gym is where most of the wrestlers worked out,” says Blears. “I’d see guys there who wanted to get into wrestling, and I would work them out.” Blears said it was mostly a waste of time with men who had a lot of muscle but little or no skill. In fact, in all his years in wrestling he has only brought four men into the business: Iaukea, Steamboat,
with whom Blears traded surf lessons for wrestling moves, Don Muracco and, most recently, 28-year-old Mauna Kea Mossman, who currently works in Japan and Italy.
The crowning jewel for all wrestlers is the finishing move. It gives the audience a focal point to signal the end of the match. For the Masked Executioner it was the claw hold. Chief Billy White Wolf had the Indian Death Lock, while “The Bull’s” Big Splash did more than devastate opponents. “He broke the ring,” Blears says.
“He climbed on to the top rope and dived off and the whole ring caved in.” Destroying rings was not the only gift that Iaukea brought. He was a great mic man — his back to the camera; a championship belt over his shoulder. Yelling, snarling, arms flying, all to the consternation of the fans at home. In fact, it was his gift for loud gab that helped move former Olympic silver medalist Harold Sakata, aka Tosh Togo, into movie history.
While in London taping a segment for a show, a producer for the James Bond film Goldfinger heard Iaukea in full blow. Moving to investigate the commotion, the man caught the two in full character. Iaukea was rocking the mic while Tosh stood there smashing boards. Shocked but satisfied, the man declared “I found my Odd Job.” So to the world, Sakata is Odd Job, but to Curtis he’s just a nice guy from Holualoa who one time almost ended his career by knocking out the film’s star. Not being used to pulling punches, Sakata knocked Sean Connery to the floor in one scene, causing a halt in shooting for three weeks while Connery recovered.
When you meet Iaukea, he looks the part of a former wrestler. Though slowed by age and injuries, the force of personality is still there. The mass of scar tissue on his head bears witness to the brutality of his business. A man full of emotion, his voice rises and falls. Hands wave in the air as he recalls events and travels.
He’s great for company and warmly inviting. And no matter what wrestling fans thought of him during his youth, The Bull’s goals for the future are much different.
“Now the ladies say ‘Oh, you’re so cute.’That’s what I want to be: a cute, fuzzy old man.”
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