12.10.2007, 07:43
Detroit Free Press
Detroit, Michigan
29 June 1960
Bob Pille
as of today ruby's wrestlers share the wealth
out where the michigan sky isn't blurred by tall buildings, the pied piper wears cauliflower ears.
in the kalamazoos and kingstons, the millingtons and muskegons, the cries trampled out of evil opponents in the wrestling ring are golden and alluring tones.
a small-town fair isn't complete these days without the muscle men.
leaping larry chene is replacing chili suppers as a fund-raiser for the volunteer fire department. instead of needlepoint and the annual bazaar, the p-t-a offers ali bey and make more money.
in the caro high school band the wrestlers have bought the tuba player's horn and put the uniform on his back.
they are building the scorebaord at oxford high, sending dexter's senior class on a trip to washington.
they are helping the blind at utica and financing uniforms for romulus policemen, baseballs for kids in belleville, and checkerboards for the oldsters whose recreation is looked after by the uaw in ypsilanti.
the center line roatry club, left in a financial hole last year by rubinoffand his violin, bailed out this spring with culture surrounded by ring ropes.
hovering over all on philosophic resignation -- part angel and part businessman -- is old grappler bert ruby.
his code is simple: "it's not a vrtue to make money but to enjoy it." ruby does both.
he deals from the floer garden behind his home and from his paneled basement amid a connoisseur's store of imported liqueurs.
arrangements are standard. ruby provides the ring, fills it with referee and trained livestock, forwards posters and publicity.
his son al, soon to be 15 and an "a" student and hopeful three-sport athlete at oak park high, does a professional job of ring announcing and pens the advances.
for this rubu takes 60 per cnet of the gate.
for the remaining 40 per cent, the local co-promoter gets up a site and date, signs for a guarantee, and presumably labors dilligently at selling tickets.
the results are sometimes spectacular.
kingston, a thumb hamlet of 450, last week featured its first homecoming with a midawy, rodeo, chicken over open charcoal pits, and a one-night stand by the ruby troupe.
the arena was the school athletic field with double-decked snow fence around it.
some of the bleachers were from the caro fairgrounds, and some had been used for graduation at marlette high only the night before.
the hero was chene, known everybody from the man in the enxt car at the stoplight in lapeer to all the kids in kingston.
he gave away pictures, signed autographs, strolled the midway trailed by youngsters, crowned the homecoming queen and kissed all her court, subdued a villanous foe named bulldog brower, and signed more autographs at a teen record hop in the school gym.
a fortyish native of detroit's east side, chene is back after seven years on other circuits.
his delight at being home with the family is sharpened by the $500-$800 he brings weekly out of the hinderlands in paychecks.
ruby calls chene "an artist who projects himself," and this si where is philosophic resignation enters.
an old scientific wrestlers, he now confesses to halfway agreement with the fellow promoter who told him "watching a scientific wrestler is about as exciting as wtaching the grass grow."
"i teach beauty," sighs ruby. "but a kick in the stomach is more appreciated than 20 fast wristlocks."
ruby consoles himself with the feeling of doing his bit for the folks pyschologically.
"wrestling gives people an object to hate harmlessly," he says.
he is reconciled to crdue questions on fakery. "we let people separate fancy from reality as they wish."
ruby also consoles himself with money.
add together all the one-shot caros and kingstons and all the regular winter shoes where he often promotes alone in some 15 towns from grand rapids to monroe to sarnia.
the operation has grossed in the last year, by conservative guess, over $700,000.
detroit in the same period led the big towns of the nation with $545,000.
all that green stuff in the open fields ain't hay.
Detroit, Michigan
29 June 1960
Bob Pille
as of today ruby's wrestlers share the wealth
out where the michigan sky isn't blurred by tall buildings, the pied piper wears cauliflower ears.
in the kalamazoos and kingstons, the millingtons and muskegons, the cries trampled out of evil opponents in the wrestling ring are golden and alluring tones.
a small-town fair isn't complete these days without the muscle men.
leaping larry chene is replacing chili suppers as a fund-raiser for the volunteer fire department. instead of needlepoint and the annual bazaar, the p-t-a offers ali bey and make more money.
in the caro high school band the wrestlers have bought the tuba player's horn and put the uniform on his back.
they are building the scorebaord at oxford high, sending dexter's senior class on a trip to washington.
they are helping the blind at utica and financing uniforms for romulus policemen, baseballs for kids in belleville, and checkerboards for the oldsters whose recreation is looked after by the uaw in ypsilanti.
the center line roatry club, left in a financial hole last year by rubinoffand his violin, bailed out this spring with culture surrounded by ring ropes.
hovering over all on philosophic resignation -- part angel and part businessman -- is old grappler bert ruby.
his code is simple: "it's not a vrtue to make money but to enjoy it." ruby does both.
he deals from the floer garden behind his home and from his paneled basement amid a connoisseur's store of imported liqueurs.
arrangements are standard. ruby provides the ring, fills it with referee and trained livestock, forwards posters and publicity.
his son al, soon to be 15 and an "a" student and hopeful three-sport athlete at oak park high, does a professional job of ring announcing and pens the advances.
for this rubu takes 60 per cnet of the gate.
for the remaining 40 per cent, the local co-promoter gets up a site and date, signs for a guarantee, and presumably labors dilligently at selling tickets.
the results are sometimes spectacular.
kingston, a thumb hamlet of 450, last week featured its first homecoming with a midawy, rodeo, chicken over open charcoal pits, and a one-night stand by the ruby troupe.
the arena was the school athletic field with double-decked snow fence around it.
some of the bleachers were from the caro fairgrounds, and some had been used for graduation at marlette high only the night before.
the hero was chene, known everybody from the man in the enxt car at the stoplight in lapeer to all the kids in kingston.
he gave away pictures, signed autographs, strolled the midway trailed by youngsters, crowned the homecoming queen and kissed all her court, subdued a villanous foe named bulldog brower, and signed more autographs at a teen record hop in the school gym.
a fortyish native of detroit's east side, chene is back after seven years on other circuits.
his delight at being home with the family is sharpened by the $500-$800 he brings weekly out of the hinderlands in paychecks.
ruby calls chene "an artist who projects himself," and this si where is philosophic resignation enters.
an old scientific wrestlers, he now confesses to halfway agreement with the fellow promoter who told him "watching a scientific wrestler is about as exciting as wtaching the grass grow."
"i teach beauty," sighs ruby. "but a kick in the stomach is more appreciated than 20 fast wristlocks."
ruby consoles himself with the feeling of doing his bit for the folks pyschologically.
"wrestling gives people an object to hate harmlessly," he says.
he is reconciled to crdue questions on fakery. "we let people separate fancy from reality as they wish."
ruby also consoles himself with money.
add together all the one-shot caros and kingstons and all the regular winter shoes where he often promotes alone in some 15 towns from grand rapids to monroe to sarnia.
the operation has grossed in the last year, by conservative guess, over $700,000.
detroit in the same period led the big towns of the nation with $545,000.
all that green stuff in the open fields ain't hay.