Loss of a local legend

I was genuinely saddened last week at the news of the death of local wrestling legend, Dale Mann at age 77.

It’s hard to explain how a young boy picks his sports heroes, but when I was growing up in this small three-television station town, I spent a lot of Saturday afternoons jumping around on Mom’s furniture while watching the antics of the group of men wearing tights and boots and sometimes masks during the Nashville professional wrestling show.

The likes of Tojo Yamamoto, George Gulas, Jerry Lawler and of course The Great One – Jackie Fargo and his famous “Fargo Strut” were just a few of the characters I watched and even imitated during the cold winter Saturday afternoons when being outside was not an option.

Wrestling on TV was a weekly pastime of most every 12 year-old boy at the time.

Tag team matches between these heroes and the Von Brauners with manager Saul Weingeroff or some other pair of masked villains who had found their way into town, were the highlight feature match at the close of nearly ever broadcast.

Of course that gave birth to locally hosted wrestling matches, most often at either the old Clinton County High School, or later the new (current) high school – both of which drew huge crowds of fans from not only Clinton County, but surrounding counties as well.

Several local figures became involved in the local wrestling productions including Kenneth Conner, aka Chuck Connors, and Wendell Burchett, who pretty much ran the gamut through the entire program, wrestling, refereeing and even managing the German tag team with that German military helmet he would often use to give one of the opponents a quick thump on the noggin – while the referee was distracted.

But of course the mainstay and the top attraction to those local matches was Big Dale Mann, who was a mountain of an athlete who would command a standing ovation from the local crowd as he made his way from the dressing room and into the ring with that fringed brown leather jacket before making a few laps around the ring and finishing up with a few rope stretching warm-up moves.

Then the main event would begin and before the next three rounds came to an end, Dale had pinned his opponent and the ref pounded out three quick slaps to the mat – “one, two, three” and Dale would jump up and lay claim to another victory.

So, back to the 12 year-old wrestling fan who grew up watching those Saturday afternoon matches on television and came to know Dale Mann, who at 6’3” and in top shape was perhaps the biggest man I had ever met when my Dad first took me to one of those local matches.

But it went one step farther than just a kid watching from ringside. For awhile, I considered myself perhaps to be the luckiest kid alive because often times, on Saturday afternoons, I would find myself in the living room listening to the man himself – Big Dale Mann, talking to my Dad about printing the next set of posters for an upcoming match somewhere in the area.

He had notes and plenty of pictures of wrestlers that would be featured, and of course when the printing job was finished, I got to keep those photos and before he left, I always got a handshake and a close-up look at the Dale Mann wrestling pose. I’m sure Dad just stood and shook his head every time.

At that age, Dale Mann was a sports hero. Later in life, I came to know Dale on a different level. His son, Mike, was a teammate on our CCHS basketball team for awhile and a classmate who played quarterback for the Bulldog football team. By my high school years, although he was still in the ring, he was “Mike’s Dad, Dale” rather than Big Dale Mann, but he was someone I still looked up to.

Probably the last time I saw Dale in the ring would have been in the 1980’s when the Conner boys, Mike and Greg, stopped by the house to check in on a couple of newlyweds and then we all convinced Janie to go with us to watch “Uncle Chuck” wrestle at the old high school.

Dale was on the card, of course, and at least three of the four in our group had a good time. Janie wasn’t so much impressed – not even at the little old lady from Piney Woods who had to be removed from the ring after she came to the rescue of Chuck, whom she thought was being unfairly treated behind the referee’s turned back.

I worked with Dale from time to time over the years, and later with his wife, also producing posters for matches they were promoting in the area and after that, I would often see Dale at basketball games.

Even just a few years ago, every time Dale was at a Clinton County game, he would give me a shout in the lobby and after we exchanged a couple of laughs, that big hand would go out and I was always taken aback at just how strong he was – even in his 70s.

Sometimes on Sunday night, I find myself channel surfing and locking in on some local wrestling show for a few minutes. Those characters may be in better shape and of course the gimmick smoke and electronics are flashier than they were back when this fan was watching those Nashville based matches and those bouts in the old high school gym.

But there aren’t any Tojo Yamamotos, no Jerry Lawlers or a blonde strutting Jackie Fargo.

There aren’t any Wendell Burchetts or Chuck Conners in the ring.

And there certainly isn’t a Big Dale Mann.