da crusher
reggie "da crusher" lisowski, blue-collar wrestling hero of the upper midwest, died this week at 79. crusher did time as a bricklayer and in milwaukee packing houses and forges before getting paid as a wrestler. he was a great villain, but lacked the exotic gimmicks of the masked wrestlers (dr. x), axis power wrestlers (baron von raschke), and behemoths (andre the giant). instead, he was the beer drinking tough at the end of the bar with the short temper and the twinkle in his eye. not surprisingly, his act aged well and his fan base was loyal to the end. as kids we would act out the saturday morning awa bouts in the hidden space between two houses on ruby drive. i'd climb a redwood fence and jump down on my opponent, snarling and stomping around as the crusher. i never knew why he was my favorite until i read this from his pro wrestling hall of fame site:"Another facet of The Crusher's style was his stamina, and more importantly, his unwavering ability to absorb punishment from his opponent, and remain as strong as ever. He liked getting beat up, thriving on a good fight...and it seemed to the fans that the more he bled, the stronger he got."
what's not to love? when i saw a little obituary video of the crusher tonight, i tried to watch it with the eyes of the 10-year-old kid who emulated him. he was a strange and wonderful archetype of masculinity, buffoonery, and jovial stylized violence. i'm not sure how much crusher remains in me, or in other midwestern kids who ate cereal while glued to the screen on saturday mornings. still, it does help put certain teenage incidents in perspective, not to mention chuck palahniuk's entire oeuvre. RIP mr. lisowski.
posted by christopher uggen @ 12:34 AM
7 comments
7 Comments:
One of my decidedly non-intellectual fascinations has always been professional wrestling. That it has strayed so far from the days of the Crushers, Bruisers, and otherwise Masked Superstars is a disappointment to me.
What is most telling about the change is the physical state of wrestlers. Considering The Crusher, or "Dirty" Dick Murdoch, while some wrestlers have had impressive physical characteristics, it would be unthinkable today to put a man in the physical conditioning of The Crusher in a position of national prominence. Prior to becoming a national spectacle, wrestlers, for the most part, appeared to be the kind of big lugs that worked at local industries and warehouses during the day, and could outdrink and outfight you at night; this is perhaps because it is precisely what they were (and the regional, rather than national, state of various organizations).
I'm not yet old enough to be mistaken for someone who could reasonably claim to have been a fan of The Crusher (with apologies to Chris), but, knowing a great deal about professional wrestling, I can respect and admire where the business came from (and lament what it has left behind).
I'll never forget how crushed I was when my dad told me, on the way home from the WWF at the Hartford Civic Center after seeing Andre the Giant and Hulk Hogan that it was all fake.
Let's also not forget that "The Crusher" inspired the greatest wrestling song of all time - "The Crusher" by Minnesota's own The Novas (later covered by The Cramps on their classic _Psychedelic Jungle_). Incidentally, tn their death throws (i.e., _Adios Amigos_), The Ramones also memoralized him in their own, "The Crusher."
Well, it might not be as poignant as Cocknoose's "Invader #1 Must Die" b/w "Badstreet USA," but if The Cramps did a cover of it, it's worth checking out.
I did have the Ramones' song in my head for a few minutes after reading this, however.
i'd heard the novas song, but didn't know about the ramones! don't forget that (post-husker du) bob mould wrote wrestling scripts. he claims there was a great overlap between punk and wrestling subcultures.
Lest anyone think this is a purely male phenomena, I'll have you know that my sister and I used to watch Saturday AM pro-wrestling as well. We used our parents big (to us) bed as our wrestling mat and fought each other tooth and nail (literally!) during commercial breaks. One of us would say "ding!" to sound the start of the match and then it was an all about sister brawl until it eventually (usually) devolved into either a) tears or b) "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" at which time that week's matches were over. This was back in the days of Mad Dog, early Hulk Hogan, and (my personal fave) Greg Gagne. Incidentally, I had a neighbor friend whose father was a charter plane pilot and flew a lot of these guys around - he never had much good to say about their in-flight demeanor...
Yea, thanks for reminding me about the Bob Mould thing. Makes perfect sense. Most punks are (were? who knows the term means today vs. back in the day) admirers of the theater of the absurd. Fact is, now that I think of it, my consumption of pro wrestling was directly proportional to my consumption of vinyl. Course, I could still pick Stone Cold out of a lineup - and I did buy approxmately 3-5 of those CD thingys in the last year (living on internet radio) - but I certainly don't know Stone Cold in the way that I knew Bruno Sammartino!
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