Everything Stops At Four ‘O’Clock!

Britain’s pro wrestling tradition is long and proud, going back to the very beginnings of the sport when Georg Hackenschmidt first came to Britain in 1902. Ironically, it was the deadly dullness of Hackenschmidt’s string of victories that initially persuaded promoters that a worked sport might be more appealing to fans, and therefore profitable! However, it was not until the late 1940s, with the establishment of Joint Promotions and the “official” weight limits and championships that pro wrestling really began to take off in Britain. Joint Promotions was Britain’s answer to the NWA, a cartel of promoters from different regions of the country who agreed to fix prices, rotate wrestlers and support the same championships. It was, effectively, the territory method of doing business. When, in the mid-fifties, ITV began broadcasting wrestling on television, the sport’s popularity really skyrocketed and Joint Promotions found themselves running literally thousands of shows each year in practically every town in Britain.

By the 1960s wrestling was mainstream entertainment in Britain. Men like Jackie Pallo were household names and stars with that notorious “crossover appeal” that so fascinates Vince McMahon today. Pallo himself appeared in popular TV shows like “The Avengers” and “Are You Being Served?” Other big names included Mick McManus, Les Kellett, Catweazle, plus a few who might be more familiar to WWE fans. Did you know, for example, that High Chief Peter Maivia is ranked in the top 200 wrestlers of ITV wrestling’s golden age? Babyface Pallo and heel McManus were probably the biggest stars of the age, their feud selling so many tickets that people were being turned away at the door.

As the seventies wore on, Joint Promotions began to crumble. Wrestling, however, remained hugely popular, largely due to the efforts of promoter Max Crabtree. Max brought in his brother, the oddly named Shirley Crabtree, a former rugby league player and bodybuilder who had been a successful wrestler in the late 50s and early 60s. Now so round that he was practically spherical, Crabtree was repackaged as Big Daddy and became one of the most popular babyfaces in the history of British wrestling. Weighing in at around 370lbs, Big Daddy was a very limited wrestler physically, using little more than bodyslams, running “belly-butts” and finishing people with his splash. Most of his matches were basic squashes that offered little to fans of the technical wrestling Britain was famous for, but this did not stop him from connecting with the fans. Crowds would eagerly sing along to his theme music, “We Shall Not Be Moved” and chants of “Easy, easy” were commonplace throughout his matches. Even the Queen and Mrs Thatcher were rumoured to be fans!

Every great babyface needs a villain, and Daddy found his in the form of Giant Haystacks, real name Martin Ruane, a true giant of a man, standing almost seven feet tall and weighing well over six hundred pounds. Like Daddy, Haystacks was extremely limited in what he could do in the ring, but he had a great grasp of the psychology of being a heel. Initially starting out as Daddy’s tag partner in a heel team, he turned on Daddy, starting the feud that was to dominate British wrestling for the rest of the seventies and throughout the eighties. Daddy and Haystacks loomed over the British wrestling scene in the same way that Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant dominated the World Wrestling Federation in the mid-eighties, and I can vividly remember watching the two battle with each other during my childhood.

Tag team matches were often used to protect the two men from their physical limitations, and some of the most talented names of all found themselves partnering Big Daddy over the years. Dynamite Kid and Steve Regal were just two of them, both agreeing that it was a horrible job. They would do all the bouncing and selling, before Daddy would make the hot tag, wrap the match up in a few seconds and romp back to the dressing room, taking all the adulation of the crowd (and most of the money). Make no mistake, though – the fans LOVED Daddy, to the extent that his feud with Haystacks even sold out Wembley Arena. British wrestling was riding high, and there were plenty of great technical wrestlers still out there to watch: Mark “Rollerball” Rocco was probably the pick of the heels, while Marty Jones was a truly outstanding grappler. There was a lot of crossover with Canada as well; Haystacks wrestled in Stampede Wrestling as Loch Ness, while a young “Bronco” Owen Hart had an outstanding match with Marty Jones.

Nevertheless, by 1985, wrestling was in trouble. ITV head honcho Greg Dyke loathed wrestling, seeing it as lowbrow programming that devalued Britain’s biggest commercial channel (ironic, given some of the rubbish that Dyke would go on to be associated with). Even though wrestling was pulling in as many as six million viewers (this, on a Saturday afternoon, in a country with a population of less than 60 million – in percentage terms, that’s about three times Raw’s domestic audience), Dyke wanted rid of it. It can’t be denied, as well, that the formulaic nature of Big Daddy’s matches had turned off some of the more sophisticated, older grapple fans. British newspapers like the Sun were constantly trying to expose the worked nature of the business (although, beyond young children like myself, very few wrestling fans seriously believed that what they were watching was a shoot). When, in 1985, Jackie Pallo exposed everything in his autobiography “You grunt, I’ll groan”, the reporters’ prayers were answered.

The real deathblow came when horse racing was moved to Channel 4. The long-running World of Sport programme on Saturday afternoons was cancelled by ITV and wrestling lost its permanent home. While it remained on ITV, its regular 4pm slot was gone and, with constant movement around the schedules, ratings rapidly dwindled away. Two years later, wrestling lost its biggest star in tragic circumstances. Big Daddy was wrestling Mal “King Kong” Kirk and when he hit his splash, tragedy followed. Kirk was rushed to hospital but sadly, passed away. It transpired that Kirk had a serious heart condition and Daddy was cleared of any responsibility for Kirk’s death but, understandably, he was unable to ever wrestle again. Under this cloud, it was no surprise when ITV finally pulled the plug on wrestling in 1988.

These were tough years for British wrestling. Deprived of any television outlet, most of the public seemed to forget about it. Long-time promoter Brian Dixon continued to put on successful family-oriented wrestling shows around the holiday camps, but with Sky broadcasting the World Wrestling Federation, the new generation of wrestling fans were growing up on a new product. Inevitably, “tribute” shows began springing up, in which mediocre British grapplers would impersonate the stars of America. I myself have watched an enjoyable card of British wrestling, tainted by a supposed “main event” in which the “tribute Undertaker” battled the “tribute Sergeant Slaughter”. Terrible wrestling, with ludicrous impersonations – the supposed tribute Undertaker was barely taller than me (I’m 5’10”)!

The late nineties and the new century saw frequent attempts to reinvigorate British wrestling, often launched by “The Showstealer” Alex Shane. Shane booked many great shows with Frontier Wrestling and 1PW, scouring the US indies for name recognition talent to try and get over a spectacular new generation of British stars. Men like AJ Styles, Rhino, Raven, Christopher Daniels, Lance Storm and many more made the journey and the likes of Doug Williams, Jody Fleisch and Jonny Storm rose to the occasion. The Wrestling Channel began showing these events on TV, and it seemed that the future was bright once more. Sadly, all of these endeavours failed, drawing crowds that were impressive, but failed to cover the vast expenses. Get the dvds if you can, but it seemed that the business model was flawed. Doing American style wrestling just cost too much for the audience that was out there to sustain it.

Now, however, things are looking up once again. LDN wrestling emerged towards the end of The Wrestling Channel’s run, and managed to successfully broadcast a weekly show for two years, something nobody had achieved since the end of ITV’s wrestling coverage. Even more impressive, LDN stayed in business when The Wrestling Channel went bust. This was based on a business model that did not rely on expensive American imports. LDN are based firmly in the British tradition of grappling, with matches based around submission holds and steeped in ring psychology. Star power was provided by legendary names from the glory days of the eighties, like Johnny Kidd and Kendo Nagasaki, helping to establish a new young generation of British wrestlers like James Mason and Yorghos. Meanwhile, Shane has reactivated 1PW, and the young federation of Extreme Pro Wrestling has secured a television spot with cable channel Life TV. British wrestling may never again quite scale the heights it did in its glory days, but it is, nevertheless, here to stay.