Post by BakFu on Jun 17, 2023 14:46:53 GMT
Just finished Fall Guys: The Barnums of Bounce by Marcus Griffin. This book is an exposé on the wrestling business written in the 1930s, it definitely speaks in the vernacular of the time, so that could either be a point of endearment or a deterrent, but I found it kind of cool. It’s interesting reading about Ed Lewis being at the end of his career, but still active. Lots of interesting information on the pioneers of what has become modern pro wrestling, how in this era, “trusts” were formed that functioned almost as agents that controlled who wrestled and where, and got their cut of the action. They also decided who was champion, and these decisions led to a lot of infighting, double crosses, and other shady, underhanded shit. Very cool to read the early history of the business, and to see names that would figure into the era of early territory wrestling.
Overall, this was an interesting read, a bit of a slog at times, but informative if you cut away the fluff and pageantry of the author’s writing style. One interesting aspect of this book, regardless of the author’s need to expose the business for what it was, is his acknowledgement of how rough the business is on the wrestlers. Blindness from trachoma (Ed Lewis), death in the ring from “athletes heart”, and other things are mentioned” He has a cool quote from a Philadelphia sports writer of the time at the end of the book,
I’d like to point out that you can’t fix, by any means or manner, this cold gray man of the night we know as Death. You can’t lodge the golden dollars of man’s coinage in his bony palm, you can’t buy betrayal from the hollow of his cavernous skull. What most wrestlers fake, if you really want to know, is that they like it all, that they can’t be hurt, that they are supermen. Even the tough Ernie Dusek said to me one night in all seriousness, “Look at me, Lanse, what a life I lead, cut and bruised and beaten if I win or lose or draw.” It’s a tough life, you fans, who make your living selling bonds or cigars or refrigerators or eight hours of mental exercise. Theirs is a life that leaves you with big ears that make people stare and talk below the ordinary tone and point and look quickly away when you catch them looking. It’s a life that leaves you lopsided, with great white stripes of scar tissue across your face and body, with endless boils from endless bouts in endless ill-equipped dressing rooms, with endless worries and endless fights, until they all seem one worry and one match.
Check this out if you’re interested in where the business came from, pretty good stuff here, just need to sift them tough the weeds a bit, and be ready for some high wasted pants wearing, 30s vernacular!
Overall, this was an interesting read, a bit of a slog at times, but informative if you cut away the fluff and pageantry of the author’s writing style. One interesting aspect of this book, regardless of the author’s need to expose the business for what it was, is his acknowledgement of how rough the business is on the wrestlers. Blindness from trachoma (Ed Lewis), death in the ring from “athletes heart”, and other things are mentioned” He has a cool quote from a Philadelphia sports writer of the time at the end of the book,
I’d like to point out that you can’t fix, by any means or manner, this cold gray man of the night we know as Death. You can’t lodge the golden dollars of man’s coinage in his bony palm, you can’t buy betrayal from the hollow of his cavernous skull. What most wrestlers fake, if you really want to know, is that they like it all, that they can’t be hurt, that they are supermen. Even the tough Ernie Dusek said to me one night in all seriousness, “Look at me, Lanse, what a life I lead, cut and bruised and beaten if I win or lose or draw.” It’s a tough life, you fans, who make your living selling bonds or cigars or refrigerators or eight hours of mental exercise. Theirs is a life that leaves you with big ears that make people stare and talk below the ordinary tone and point and look quickly away when you catch them looking. It’s a life that leaves you lopsided, with great white stripes of scar tissue across your face and body, with endless boils from endless bouts in endless ill-equipped dressing rooms, with endless worries and endless fights, until they all seem one worry and one match.
Check this out if you’re interested in where the business came from, pretty good stuff here, just need to sift them tough the weeds a bit, and be ready for some high wasted pants wearing, 30s vernacular!