31.08.2006, 09:41
WILD, WEIRD WORLD OF PRO WRESTLING
Los Angeles Times
17 November 1974
By John Hall
Once, a struggling young wrestler named George Wagner, Nebraska born and Houston raised, son of a house painter, dyed his hair blond, had it marceled and became Gorgeous George, the Human Orchid.
With sequined orchid robes, valet and perfume sprayed on rings before he entered, George infuriated the nation. He also set SRO records. In 1949, he sold out the Olympic 27 times.
"I really don't think I'm gorgeous," George always said. "But what's my opinion against millions?"
In the '50s, we shared adjoining apartments at the La Brea Towers. G.G., as friends called him, was past his peak. Heavy drinking had begun to catch up with him. His liver and kidneys were in trouble.
Sometimes you could hear him a block away, coughing all night. Still, he had the magic. When money ran short, he'd go barnstorming in the tank towns. His name sold right to the end.
He never got out of his act. He'd get furious if anybody kidded him about fakery in wrestling, challenging any disbeliever to arm wrestling or more. Downstairs from his apartment in the old House of Serfas saloon, I can still hear giant George Strugar, Del Shofner and other (Los Angeles) Rams of the day taking the oath G.G. demanded when he passed out souvenir Georgie pins used in his golden curls.
"I solemnly swear and promise I will never confuse this gold Georgie pin with a common, ordinary bobby pin, so help me Gorgeous George."
His funeral was as splendid as anything he might have arranged. At 48, broke, he had a heart attack on Christmas Eve of 1963, and died two days later.
The funeral was held in a chapel in Los Angeles. Naturally, it was SRO. The line of mourners went around the block. Both ex-wives, sitting on opposite sides, cried uncontrollably. His last girl friend, a stripper, sobbed and collapsed. The lavender casket was smothered by orchids. Sprays of orchids choked the chapel.
Baron Leone, Jules Strongbow and other wrestlers, orchids in their lapels, were pallbearers. Olympic ring announcer Jimmy Lennon sang. Frank and Joseph came back one more time to do his hair. The robe was his most magnificent.
Joe Jares, son of wrestler Brother Frank Jares, at varying times known as "The Thing" and "The Golden Terror," has recaptured it all in his book ("What Ever Happened to Gorgeous George?") -- a unique valentine to his parents as well as the entire strange industry.
Jares is a writer and associate editor of Sports Illustrated, a USC grad who as a sophomore spent "the best summer of my life" touring the South with his pop, The Heel.
All the villains, the crazy holds, the frenzied fans, the hilarities and sadnesses, the idols, the women and the masked marvels, live again in a delight of a love story.
Wrestling, for all its critics, still prospers. Still, not quite like Gorgeous George. Jares is the No. 1 witness. But he never heard G.G. cough all night like I did.
Los Angeles Times
17 November 1974
By John Hall
Once, a struggling young wrestler named George Wagner, Nebraska born and Houston raised, son of a house painter, dyed his hair blond, had it marceled and became Gorgeous George, the Human Orchid.
With sequined orchid robes, valet and perfume sprayed on rings before he entered, George infuriated the nation. He also set SRO records. In 1949, he sold out the Olympic 27 times.
"I really don't think I'm gorgeous," George always said. "But what's my opinion against millions?"
In the '50s, we shared adjoining apartments at the La Brea Towers. G.G., as friends called him, was past his peak. Heavy drinking had begun to catch up with him. His liver and kidneys were in trouble.
Sometimes you could hear him a block away, coughing all night. Still, he had the magic. When money ran short, he'd go barnstorming in the tank towns. His name sold right to the end.
He never got out of his act. He'd get furious if anybody kidded him about fakery in wrestling, challenging any disbeliever to arm wrestling or more. Downstairs from his apartment in the old House of Serfas saloon, I can still hear giant George Strugar, Del Shofner and other (Los Angeles) Rams of the day taking the oath G.G. demanded when he passed out souvenir Georgie pins used in his golden curls.
"I solemnly swear and promise I will never confuse this gold Georgie pin with a common, ordinary bobby pin, so help me Gorgeous George."
His funeral was as splendid as anything he might have arranged. At 48, broke, he had a heart attack on Christmas Eve of 1963, and died two days later.
The funeral was held in a chapel in Los Angeles. Naturally, it was SRO. The line of mourners went around the block. Both ex-wives, sitting on opposite sides, cried uncontrollably. His last girl friend, a stripper, sobbed and collapsed. The lavender casket was smothered by orchids. Sprays of orchids choked the chapel.
Baron Leone, Jules Strongbow and other wrestlers, orchids in their lapels, were pallbearers. Olympic ring announcer Jimmy Lennon sang. Frank and Joseph came back one more time to do his hair. The robe was his most magnificent.
Joe Jares, son of wrestler Brother Frank Jares, at varying times known as "The Thing" and "The Golden Terror," has recaptured it all in his book ("What Ever Happened to Gorgeous George?") -- a unique valentine to his parents as well as the entire strange industry.
Jares is a writer and associate editor of Sports Illustrated, a USC grad who as a sophomore spent "the best summer of my life" touring the South with his pop, The Heel.
All the villains, the crazy holds, the frenzied fans, the hilarities and sadnesses, the idols, the women and the masked marvels, live again in a delight of a love story.
Wrestling, for all its critics, still prospers. Still, not quite like Gorgeous George. Jares is the No. 1 witness. But he never heard G.G. cough all night like I did.