THE PHANTOM OF THE RING

The Man Who Saw the Future, Part 2

When we last left our hero, he had taken over the Argentine promotion and was now facing he biggest challenge of his career.

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One of the oddest occurrences was the seeming collapse of interest in professional wrestling in the Western Hemisphere. Nationwide interest had evaporated and wrestling remained successful only at the local level. It was no different in Argentina, with Karadagian’s promotion on the brink of bankruptcy. But while other promoters looked for the standard ways of trying to promote, Karadagian looked to something radically different. He thought that only by repackaging wrestling would he survive. His plan was simple: he noticed that fans were attracted to the personalities and the storylines more than the wrestling itself. What if he were to refocus and make this the driving point of the promotion? Why not, what did he really have to lose? But he was broke and needed a television show to boost attendance. Opportunity soon knocked, but that turned quickly to adversity. However, Karadagian proved the old adage that if you’re stuck with lemons, then make lemonade.

An independent station in Buenos Aries, Channel 9, was looking for cheap programming. Among the options considered was a wrestling show; these, in terms of production costs versus advertising revenue, practically pay for themselves if handled correctly.  Karadagian got wind of their plans and presented a proposal of his own. But as he was broke, he could not come up with the necessary money. Into the breach stepped Alberto Orlando Olmedo and Humberto Ortiz. Olmedo was the Pee Wee Herman of his time, the host of a wildly popular children’s show, “El Capitan Piluso,” on competing Channel 7. Ortiz was the show’s costar and writer. Olmedo beat out Karadagian for the contract and it looked as if that was that for Karadagian. The final blow, it was thought.

Karadagian didn’t know it at the time, but he had an ace in the hole. And that ace was none other than Olmedo himself. Olmedo was a wrestling fan – a big wrestling fan -  one who, having trained as a gymnast, wanted nothing more than to step through the ropes and dazzle the crowd with his finesse and moves. There was also a financial motive: Olmedo also wanted to move past children’s programming into adult ventures, where he believed his slapstick abilities would be better appreciated and where his career could endure. (It wasn’t for nothing that the top-rated foreign show at the time was the old Three Stooges shorts on Channel 9.)

Olmedo called Karadagian in order to try and smooth things over. He mentioned his interest in wrestling and the fact he was a big, big fan of Karadagian. Karadagian was interested; flattery never hurts. Olmedo told Karadagian of his idea to get into the ring against him and Karadagian jumped at it. Did Karadagian have any ideas of how to build up such a match? Yes, he did, and he did it in such a way that the whole country was sucked in. They began the angle with fake lawsuits and countersuits over Olmedo getting the Channel 9 contract. This made the news. There were public scuffles, skillfully broken up by their respective entourages. Olmedo appeared at ringside both to challenge and mock Karadagian, his message being one of “instead of a lawsuit, why don’t you be enough of a man to meet me in the ring?” Karadagian initially turned it down; why, he’d kill Olmedo. Olmedo mocked him again, insulting Karadagian’s manhood along the way. “Pushed” too far, Karadagian accepted. If Olmedo wanted a lavish funeral, who was he to argue.

Amazingly, all this was not only reported on the news, it was given the gravity of a story about a war, or bank robbery. The country became quickly hooked on each party’s doings. With the heat building, a match was set. Olmedo plugged it heavily on his kiddie show, thus ensuring that the kids would apply pressure to their parents to take them to the match. Karadagian mentioned it at his wrestling shows and on television interviews. The match was held on November 12, 1961, at Luna Park. It was a Saturday, so the kids could attend. It was also the first sellout in Luna Park in six years, and was televised by Channel 9 (shades of Moolah vs. Richter).

As for the match itself, perhaps the kindest thing that could be said about it was that it was a total disaster. (Think Roddy Piper vs. Mr. T squared.) Karadagian played the heel and had to slow his style in order to carry his opponent. The finish occurred when Olmedo’s costar, Ortiz, distracted Karadagian long enough for Olmedo to make the pin. The mainstream media later called it a “farcical joke on the public,” but that didn’t matter to the fans, Karadagian, or, as it turned out, Channel 9. Even more amazing is that this was years before Andy Kaufman would set foot in a ring to eventually challenge Jerry Lawler and the pre-match publicity of both matches was practically identical.

It’s been said that this was the only loss Karadagian suffered on television, but that’s not so. Near the end of his career he would sell a screw-job loss on television in order to build up a later card.

For Channel 9, the match was bittersweet. Their ulterior motive in signing Olmedo was the hope he would bring his Captain Piluso show to the channel. But when Channel 7 got wind of their intentions, they re-signed their star to an even bigger contract, with written clauses allowing him time off to do movies and a promised adult show in the future when the Piluso show began to expire. Channel 9 couldn’t match those terms, and Olmedo told them he really had no interest in doing a wrestling show, anyway. He wanted the slot to build up other acts. Too expensive, retorted the brass at Channel 9, so they mutually terminated Olmedo’s contract. This left Channel 9 with a huge hole in their schedule and a promised wrestling show that wasn’t. In desperation, someone finally figured out that Karadagian was the real brains behind the whole feud and offered him the slot for a wrestling show.

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Señor William Boo

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Karadagian jumped at the offer, but try as he might, he couldn’t raise the necessary cash. He then called in a favor to Joe Galera, a fellow wrestler and confidant from his “import-export” days (Joe would later star in the promotion as “Joe the Mercenary.”). Jorge Boccaci, another confidant, came across with startup money. Boccaci and Galera were part of the partnership along with Karadagian and his wife that purchased the promotion in 1956. Finally, former boxer and wrestler Hector Oscar Brea fronted the rest of the money in return for a regular job with the promotion. Brea was old and obese and afraid for the future. Brea would earn everlasting fame and notoriety in Argentinean pop culture (and wrestling history for that matter) as the evil referee, William Boo. On March 3, 1962, “Titanes en el Ring” hit the airwaves. Karadagian was back.

But now that he had the time slot, the question became one of content: what to do with the promotion. He loved the ballyhoo of the Olmedo feud, but realized it was a one-time special. Besides, the stink it raised wasn’t only with the media, it reached his workers, who were of the old-school variety and opposed to that sort of nonsense. It was bad enough they were called fakers, but being called obvious fakers was too much to handle. Karadagian stuck with the old formula. His troupe, about 35 strong, included names familiar to wrestling fans, such as Benito Duarte and Pedro Goitia. The occasional foreign star visited, whether one of Rikidozan’s boys, or one of the boys from England. It was kept to the old formula with the most outrageous character being that of Golden Superman. Yet Karadagian kept an eye on how popular he was, especially with the younger crowd. Demographics showed that his core audience was 18 and younger. Perhaps the time had come to play to that audience.

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Pepino

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Being in a family oriented movie certainly helped. In 1963 Alberto Olmedo offered him a plum role in Las Aventuras Del Captain Piluso en el Castillo del Terror (The Adventure of Captain Piluso in the Castle of Terror). He received fourth billing in a film that did extremely well with the younger crowd. Amazingly, most of the financing for the film came from Channel 9, despite their being on the outs with Olmedo. Karadagian decided to go whole hog with the promotion, and by 1964, new characters were introduced to supplement Golden Superman; with most from the world of pop culture. Kids liked clowns, so there arrived a Pepino the Clown. James Bond was most popular, which spawned an Agent 009. He was always accompanied to the ring by two beautiful women, and fought in a white dinner jacket and black pants. To fill the need for a monster heel, Frankenstein came aboard. It took nearly an hour to do his makeup at before each bout at first. Later, as the gimmick began to play out, a cheap mask and a little greasepaint were substituted. And, if an English Beatle was expected, then how about a French Beatle? Karadagian began to rethink his promotional philosophy. No longer would it be one of sport, the gladiatorial contest, but rather the eternal struggle between good and evil – this would give his promotion the necessary appeal from the senior citizen to the child.

The old timers among the fans and in the locker room didn’t like it one bit, but there was no denying its popularity. It was admitting, in a way, that what was going on in the ring wasn’t exactly on the level. But who in his right mind didn’t know that, anyway? The ratings spiked and stayed high. Karadagian had extra bleacher seats added to Luna Park to accommodate the larger crowds. His promotion began to play in the larger arenas nationwide as well, now that he could afford the rents.  And wherever a local holiday or tradition was celebrated, one could usually count on seeing Karadagian and his troupe in the center of things, sometimes even appearing in the local parades. He was back and this time he was making sure he was sticking around.

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Capanga

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Getting to the top was the hard part; staying there would be comparatively easy, given Karadagian’s fecund imagination. He supplemented this by paying bonuses to wrestlers that came up with good ideas. Juan Carlos de la Fuente, who wrestled as Campanga, a missionary, had also worked that gimmick during a tour of Texas in 1963. He became friendly with Benji Ramirez, who worked the territory as The Mummy. Campanga was amazed by the lengths Ramirez went to in dressing as his character; using rolls of bandages to create just the right effect. Campanga told Karadagian about it. Karadagian thought about bringing Ramirez in, but decided against it. For one, Ramirez would be expensive and would limit himself to a tour. Secondly, Ramirez’s character was a strict heel. The promoter had not failed to notice that mummies were over with the kids. A series of Mexican movies starring The Aztec Mummy were wildly popular in Argentina. So Karadagian decided his mummy would be a ‘tweener’, fighting both technicos and rudos. The kids didn’t care, they adored him, and over time he developed into a character that loves and protects children. To further stuff the point home, Karadagian’s mummy would not look like Ramirez’ s creation, but like the Aztec Mummy of film. The mummy would also move very slowly to the ring and not sell his opponent’s moves. To play the character, Karadagian decided upon Ivan Kowalsky, a big American who moved rather slowly himself. Kowalsky, who previously worked as the White Russian, a gimmick that kept him on the mid-card, quickly leaped at the chance for main event money. And thus “La Momia” was born.

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La Momia

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It was only natural that La Momia and Frankenstein would eventually bang heads and Karadagian was not one to keep fans waiting. The sight of two big slow monsters that refused to sell must have been most odd, even to seasoned fans of the promotion. They met a few times, with perhaps the most famous match on television in 1967. The finish saw both wrestlers hanging precariously upside down from the ring, their feet locked in the ropes and their heads only a few inches away from hitting the floor, punching and slapping each other for the better of five minutes while the referee tried to free them from their predicament. The excitement from this bout whetted the fans’ appetite for more, but La Momia came to a sudden end when Kowalsky was killed in an auto accident. Five years would pass before Karadagian would revive the character, and that character would help build the most successful era in the history of Argentine wrestling.

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Frankenstein

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Amazingly, though, while on the verge of financial and cultural superstardom, Karadagian became caught up in a scandal that threatened both him and the future of his promotion.

NEXT: A stint in jail gives Karadagian time to think and come up with new angles and characters that would drive the promotion into the cultural stratosphere.

– The Phantom of the Ring

You can write to the Phantom care of Karen Belcher

kabelchr@verizon.net

i just ran across this website and i find it very interesting,especially the masked wrestlers. my hobby is finding out who the really are[real names] at present time i have a list of almost 5000 single masked wrestlers, and almost 600 masked tag teams.both list are from all over the world,from 1873 to 2009, and still counting.i also have letters from bob backlund,billy anderson, johnny valentine,george cannon,bobby bold eagle,larry sharpe,mike dupree,lord zoltan and others. keep up the good work.

Every blog that i read, I get a new insigh. Every insight that i find, I find insight that could inspire one’s life. And I thank you that this article is a part of that journey.