Greetings.
It was with profound sadness that I learned, this week, of the passing of wrestling icons, Larry ‘the Axe’ Hennig and Tom “Dynamite Kid” Billington – both of whom, I’m honored to relate, were old and dear friends of mine.
I’d like to now take this opportunity to pay my respects to my two fallen comrades, starting with Larry. Back in the day, promoters from Canada and the United States used to send promising prospects up to Calgary to hone their skills with my dad, who was regarded as one of the best trainers and developers of talent in the business. Such was the case in the early 60’s when Minneapolis promoters Wally Karbo and Verne Gagne sent a young Larry Hennig up, to hone his skills down in the infamous Dungeon. I was pretty young at the time, but can recall Larry going down with Stu and others, like Luther Lindsey, Archie Gouldie and Maurice Vachon, to learn the proverbial ropes.
After having paid his dues down in the Dungeon, Larry would return to Minneapolis – initially tag teaming with another determined colleague – Harley Race and then embarking on a singles career, headlining cards for Verne Gagne’s legendary AWA promotion and also starring in places like New York, Texas and Japan. Larry’s son, Curt (better known as Mr. Perfect) would also become a major star in the WWF, as well as his grandson, Joe (a.k.a. Curtis Axel).
Aside from his own wrestling accomplishments, Larry’s son, Curt (better known as Mr. Perfect) and grandson Joe (aka, Curtis Axel) have also gone on to stardom in the WWE and other promotions. Beyond that, Larry was respected as one of the genuine nice guys and straight shooters in our business.
As for my old friend Dynamite Kid, I honestly don’t even know where to start. It seems like it was only yesterday, when I first met him, when I was wrestling in a city in northern England – called Chester, back in the fall of 1977. I had just finished my match and this older guy, named Ted Betley approached me in the dressing room and introduced himself. He told me that he had heard how my dad had helped launch the careers of several outstanding British wrestlers in North America, includingBilly Robinson, Les Thornton and Geoff Portz and told me he’d been training a young prospect who would surpass all of them. That was saying a lot, because Robinson and the others were among the best wrestlers in the world at the time.
In any case, he then summoned this skinny teenager whom he introduced simply as Thomas and informed me that he would be wrestling later that evening on the card and asked if I would watch his match. At the time, several other British guys had been trying to get me to book them into my dad’s territory and I was kind of blasé about yet another prospect, but I, nonetheless, told Betley I’d watch his match.
Much to my surprise, Betley’s protégé went out and proceeded to put on one of the most incredible wrestling performances I’ve ever seen. He moved around the ring with cat-like grace and astonishing athletic acumen and the name Dynamite Kid suited him to a T. I was completely blown away – about like Motown records head Berry Gordy must have been when he first auditioned a then unknown prodigy named Michael Jackson. I met with Betley and Dynamite after the match and promised them that I’d pitch my dad to bring him over.
Ordinarily, it should have been a slam dunk to get Dynamite booked, but my dad, like most promoters in North America was strictly into heavyweights and anybody who weighed less than maybe two hundred twenty pounds was considered too small, which, in fact, was why I was wrestling in England myself, because I weighed only a hundred eighty.
Even though I went to great lengths to extol all of Dynamite’s virtues and exaggerated his weight, telling my dad that he weighed 170, even though he wasn’t much more than 150, my dad was pretty dubious that a scrawny teenager was even worth booking, much less having the potential to be a game changer. I persisted however and kept pestering my dad to at least give him a chance.
Funny enough, right around that same time, a scrawny, undersized teenager named Wayne Gretzky – whom most old school hockey types had also deemed too small, had exploded on to the scene in Edmonton – which was one of the places we wrestled and was revolutionizing the game. I seized the opportunity to compare Dynamite to Gretzky and that seemed to make an impression on my dad and he finally agreed to bring him over. In retrospect though, I don’t think he was expecting this skinny teenager to be our salvation.
I’m pleased to relate that, upon his arrival, Dynamite would prove to be everything I had touted him to be and more. He hit the ground running and soon was the talk of the territory, having great matches with everyone he worked with and our crowds, which hadn’t been great, suddenly took off, much to my dad’s satisfaction.
One of the things that most impressed me about Dynamite was his innate ability to make virtually every wrestler he worked with look better. I’ve worked with some terrific workers during my career and there are all kinds of guys with great athletic ability and whatnot who are able to get themselves over, but comparatively few who are capable of making virtually everyone they work with look like world beaters. In that respect, Dynamite was the best I’ve ever seen, hands down.
I’d also like to note that everything Dynamite did in the ring was improvisational, no scripts or pre-orchestrated high spots, just spontaneous combustion – which served to engage the audience and made them feel as if their cheering, booing or whatever else had some bearing on the outcome – which is what it’s all about.
During his extended stretch in Stampede Wrestling – from 1979 to 1984, Dynamite would revolutionize the style of wrestling in our territory and, in the process, would help transform a group unproven young wrestlers, including my brothers Bret, Keith, Robbie Stewart, his cousin Davey Boy and later others like Chris Benoit, Brian Pillman, Ben Bassarab, and my brother Owen, as well as a myriad of aspiring young Japanese rookies, including Jushin Liger, Giorgi Takana, Junji Hirada and Hiroshi Hase – all of whom would go on to become major stars.
One of the other things about Dynamite that was really special was that each and every night – whether it was one of our major cities or some small town, he would go out and bust his ass to give the fans their moneys worth. In so doing, he put his body through an inordinate amount of wear, which ultimately took a toll on his body. Much like hockey’s legendary Bobby Orr, whose career was cut short by injuries, so, too, was Dynamite’s.
Some fans of the WWF/WWE in the 80’s might recall Dynamite’s tag team title run, with Davey Boy and perceive that to have been the apex of his glorious career, but, sad to reflect, that by the time he arrived in the WWF, because of injuries and the inordinate amount of wear and tear he’d incurred on his body, he was nowhere near what he’d once been. Even so, he and Davey Boy are still considered by most to have been the greatest tag team in WWF history.
Funny enough, even as I’m typing this and extolling the virtues of the Bulldogs, it occurred to me that they still haven’t been deemed worthy of induction into the WWE Hall of Fame. In the meantime, a myriad of other marginally talented ass kissers, stooges and nondescripts have been welcomed with open arms. What gives, Vince and Hunter?
When the immortal Muhammad Ali passed away in 2016, he was deemed as the G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time) by his fans, for his in ring talent and for his charisma outside the ring. Based on what I saw, in and out of the ring, I’d have no qualms about similarly designating Dynamite, as the G. O. A. T. in professional wrestling. I realize that’s saying a lot, given the myriad of incredible wrestlers that our business has seen over the years, but Dynamite was one of a kind. In any case, I’d like to humbly thank him and Larry ‘the Axe’ for their monumental contributions to our sport – rest in peace, my friends. I’d also like to, at this time, extend my deepest condolences to Dynamite and Larry’s families on their profound loss.
I shall look forward to catching up with you all next time.
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