Sunday, February 03, 2008 | Sports
The main event

Revisiting the glory days of Georgia Championship Wrestling

By Scott Sergent

Atlanta changes before our eyes every day—especially in the sports world. Landmarks like the Omni, Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium and old Ponce de Leon Park live on only in pictures, and icons are quickly forgotten as time marches on.

However, one of those Atlanta icons worth remembering is Georgia Championship Wrestling.

Originating from the old TBS studios on Techwood Drive, “Georgia Championship Wrestling”—which later, after a series of business deals and reversals, morphed into “World Championship Wrestling”—first hit the airwaves in 1972, when a fledgling local television station (WTCG, later renamed WTBS) needed programming. Four years later, the popular show was one of the reasons station owner Ted Turner decided to beam his signal nationwide. In fact, WCW became the highest-rated program in the early days of cable. When it expanded to two hours in 1980, it was big news across the country.
    
Taped in front of a rambunctious crowd on Saturday mornings, “Georgia Championship Wrestling” drew a clear dividing line between good and bad. There the good guys, known as the Baby Faces, or simply the Faces. These were the crowd favorites who usually abided by the rules, among them “The American Dream,” Dusty Rhodes, a giant of a man who spoke with a charming lisp; Ronnie Garvin, a blue-collar wrestler from Canada; the Rock-N-Roll Express, a tag team who were a favorite among teenage girls; and the masked man known as Mr. Wrestling II, who tagged with another masked wrestler, Mr. Wrestling I, but became more popular in Atlanta and even became a personal favorite of former president Jimmy Carter and his wife Rosalyn.
    
Then there were the bad guys, known as the Heels, frowned for their frequent cheating and general disregard for authority. Led by Ole Anderson, a rough-and-tumble brawler from Minnesota, the Heels included the Masked Assassins; Terry Funk, who once beat up a ring attendant for putting on his cowboy hat as he took his attire back to the dressing room; and the Four Horsemen, led by the greatest wrestler of all time, “Nature Boy” Ric Flair.
    

A CHARACTER IN THE ANNOUNCING BOOTH

Somehow giving structure to all the chaos—in and out of the ring—was legendary announcer Gordon Solie. Widely known as the dean of wrestling announcers and regarded as one of the greatest play-by-play men in any sport, Solie gave credibility to what viewers saw at home, even though everyone knew the script had been written beforehand.

And he spawned a number of catchphrases that became almost as popular as the wrestlers themselves: “His face is a crimson mask”; “We have a real Pier Six brawl going on now” (a reference to boxing matches back on Pier Six on Staten Island, where bare-knuckle brawlers would beat the crap out of each other); “We have to get some order restored here”; and my favorite, after a devastating move on a wrestler: “Brother!”
    
I was fortunate to work with Gordon during the twilight of his career, and he was as gracious and engaging as he appeared on TV. As we traveled to matches, he would shorten the long trips with stories about the good old days. One of his favorites was the night “The Magnificent” Muraco pushed him to the ground, only to have his announcing partner, Roddy Piper, save him. “You know, Sarge, [his nickname for me], Muraco almost killed me that night, literally. Good thing for me I was in such good shape,” he’d say—and then give a good hearty laugh, since he was all of 5-foot-7 and 150 pounds.
    
Gordon liked to sip “Daddy’s Apple Juice,” especially during working hours. I was worried, so I asked my boss about it since I was responsible for him being there to do the play-by-play for the WCW Hotline. “Don’t worry about it,” he told me. “He’s at his best after a few pops.” To his credit, Gordon never missed an event, and his announcing seemed to get better with every show.
    

LARGER THAN LIFE

More than the moves, it was the storylines that kept people coming back to “Georgia Championship Wrestling” each Saturday night—and not just wrestling fans. Even my parents, who had no idea who these guys were, would watch every week to see how things would play out.

Who can forget the night Austin Idol showed up late for a tag-team match with Kevin Sullivan against the Fabulous Freebirds? “How did you get here? Didn’t you have a flat tire?” one of the Freebirds asked. “How did you know I had a flat tire?” Idol replied. “Uh-oh,” Solie intoned, “Katy bar the door,” meaning there was going to be trouble—and sure enough, all hell broke loose.

One classic storyline involved Ole Anderson, a longtime Heel, switching sides and joining the Faces for a year in order to lure his hated rival, Dusty Rhodes, into a cage match with the Masked Assassins and special referees Ivan Koloff and Gene Anderson (Ole’s brother). Once the cage was locked, Ole showed his true colors, and all five wrestlers pounced on the American Dream. (No wonder Rhodes talked with a lisp.)

Ronnie Garvin—nicknamed “The Hands of Stone” and “The One Man Gang”—had some funny moments himself. During one match, his opponent Ox Baker’s dentures flew out of his mouth; to the delight of the crowd, Garvin stomped on them. Garvin also once lost a loser-leave-town match; the next week, a masked man calling himself Mr. Knoxville (and sounding a lot like Garvin) appeared at the studio sporting boots with the letters “RG” on them.

And them of course, there’s the greatest wrestler of all time: “The Nature Boy,” Ric Flair, whose abilities inside the ring were matched by larger-than-life persona. Flair often bragged about his prowess in the ring and with the ladies, his $500 alligator shoes, his cashmere coat and his Gulfstream jet, punctuating his barbs with his trademark “Whoooo!” “I’m a kiss stealin’, wheelin’ dealin’, limousine ridin’, jet-flyin’ son-of-a-gun, Whoooo!” He once handed announcer Tony Schiavone a couple hundred bucks, telling him “Go get yourself some decent clothes. I can’t have you looking like that when you’re standing next to the World Champion. Whoooo!”

Saturday nights just aren’t the same without these colorful characters and their oversized antics. Yes, we all knew it was just a big soap opera, but no one cared: It was fun. And that’s what entertainment—and wrestling—should be all about. SP

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Clinging To the Ropes

Professional wrestling in Georgia—at least as its fans have known it since promoters began staging events 82 years ago—could be pinned for good. And the move could come as early as next week, when the Georgia Athletic and Entertainment Commission meets to decide whether to regulate the sport. The commission already regulates the state’s boxing and mixed martial arts, as well as ticket brokers.

The pro wrestling industry has come under increased scrutiny after wrestler Chris Benoit killed his wife, son and himself last summer in their Fayetteville home. Steroids were present in the house and tests indicated Benoit had roughly 10 times the normal level of testosterone in his system when he died.

Due to a 2005 statute that excludes groups with total assets of more than $25 million, the Stamford, Conn.-based World Wrestling Entertainment would not be affected by the GAEC’s proposals (although WWE officials have stated they would pull all Georgia events if its exemption is rescinded). The same cannot be said of the more than 20 promotions regularly running each week in small towns all over the state.

At an open forum last December, around 70 current and former wrestlers and promoters voiced their opposition to the proposals. The wrestling community repeatedly stressed that the cat had been out of the bag for a long time: Fans understand that the matches they are watching are not legitimate contests.

The recently formed Georgia Wrestling Promoters Advisory Committee has no problem with several of the GAEC’s proposals, but is perplexed by suggestions including the restriction of verbal taunts to the audience, disqualifications for inappropriate attire, the prohibition of grease or lotion, restrictions on managers’ involvement at ringside and the over-enforcement of rules regarding scoring, match time and general match activity.

The promoters also have voiced concerns over suggested commission fees and event payments, as well as recommendations for an exaggerated number of medical personnel at each match. Unlike the WWE, local promoters aren’t raking in the big bucks. These added costs would be passed on to the fans, who will likely stay away not because of the added price, but because this brand of professional wrestling would be over-regulated and boring.—Fulton Shelley