My Father, The Wrestler

My Father was a professional wrestler. His ring-name was "Pat McGuinness" and he worked the east coast circut during the mid-seventies. He was usually featured in one of the opening matches of the day or night. In real life he never lost a fight that I'd heard about, but the contests were always set up with a pre-determined winner. To my Dad, professional wrestling was more or a glorified hobby, a way to show off, make some extra cash, and travel in "show-biz" circles.

I went to a few of his matches, and though it was hard to watch him occasionaly sucumb to lesser men, I became facinated by the subculture of it all. Arena Rats (groupies), fake blood, and a chance to meet some wrestling greats. Chief Jay Strongbow, Andre the Giant, Superstar Billy Graham, Ivan Koloff the Russian Bear, and others, the list goes on. This was before professional wrestling exploded upon the mainstreem, so there was still an old-time, circus sideshow vibe to the whole thing. Regardless of the outward rivalry, most of the guys seemed to be friends. I remember meeting Andre the Giant for the first time. He spoke beyond-broken english and stunk up the dressing room like an old, wet horse. He held out his hand to shake mine, and it was bigger than my head. Billy Graham and Ivan Koloff were good friends of my fathers, and Ivan often stayed with him when he was in town. Contrary to his persona (grunting animal wrapped in chains and furs), he was a soft-spoken, intelligent, funny guy. Somewhere exists a photo of me wearing his stage outfit, dwarfed by all the gear.

The arena Rats were kinda scary to me, a different breed than a Three Dog Night fan, a little bit skanky and always in the front rows screaming at the opponents and blowing kisses to their favorites. When I raised an eyebrow to my Dad he said "fuck 'em all son, you might miss a good one".

My Fathers career in the ring lasted about 2 years. One Saturday afternoon in Miami, flipping through the channels looking for "Creature Feature Double Feature " I happened to come upon my Dad wrestling on t.v. I yelled out to my Mother that Dad was on television and she promptly called the Jai Alai center to see if she could have him picked-up for some late child-support payments. Unfortunately for her, he was long gone, having filmed the bout a few days earlier. My Father grew tired of the whole scene and retired his name shortly afterwards. He went back to being a bad-ass bouncer at tough-guy bars, after all, he was  an outlaw.