When I was about ten years old, my father took me out of school “early” for a trip from Niagara Falls, New York, to Niagara Falls, Ontario, to see a professional “rassling” match. Yes, the Americans and Canadians each have their own city of Niagara Falls.
We walked to a local bacon-and-egg place in the Clifton Hill area in Canada for a bite to eat late in the afternoon. Shortly after we sat down, a hulk of a guy with a buckskin lumberjack shirt came in the greasy spoon. There was no mistaking the figure. He used a clothesline for a belt, and his shirt were worn open to show off his 66-inch chest. It was Yukon Eric, all right.
Figure 1: Yukon Eric
A pro-wrestling tough guy, Yukon Eric used to fling opponents into the ropes to have them bounce back to collide with his enormous chest. He was trained by Man Mountain Dean, a notorious bad-ass wrestler of the era. Yukon Eric battled against the likes of Gorgeous George, Killer Kowalski, Whipper Billy Watson, Ivan Rasputin (aka Hymie Fishman), and Mr.Moto. Eric was a scrapper whose ear was torn off by an errant dropkick by Killer Kowalski.
As he walked by our table, my father said hello to him. Eric spoke with my father, and, then, turned to me. He looked larger and more ferocious than King Kong. It was not lost on me that this man was the wrestler who made famous holds like the “Kodiak Krunch,” a kind of a bear hug. He asked my name. I think I was frozen until he smiled. My Dad asked him to join us.
Yukon Eric ordered 4 eggs up, 4 slices of Canadian bacon, toast, and a glass of milk. Then, some more toast. I read that he once ate 6 lobsters at one sitting. He amiably chatted with my father, mostly, and me, when I could snap from my awestruck stupor to utter affirmatives or negatives in short, quiet bursts.
As he turned his head, I saw it: The gnarled remainder of his ear. He caught me staring at it. I snapped my eyes back to the plate in front of me. He pulled his hair to the side. “You see that? A guy jumped on me and tore it off. Wanna be a rassler? Ahhhhahaha!” Everyone laughed with him, but I believe I may have grabbed my own ear in horror.
What a nice guy he seemed as he continued to chat about traveling with his dogs to fishing spots and to reach his matches throughout southern Canada. My father told him we had tickets to his match. When he left, he picked up our check. He shook our hands and said he would see us at the match.
Figure 2: Yukon Eric and His Huskies
That night, I couldn’t wait for Yukon Eric to enter the ring. In the first minute of the match, his opponent threw Eric over the ropes and to the floor. Eric looked as riled as a bear ready to attack a suburban jogger running near his deer carcass.
As Eric stood up, he bellowed an “Arrrgh” at the crowd. We were in the 2nd row. He turned his vein-popping fury toward us and winked conspiratorially.
I am sad to report that in January 1965 Eric drove into a church parking lot in Atlanta and committed suicide with a gun.
The memory I want to keep and share, though, was that after Eric was thrown out of the ring, he jumped back in, tore ferociously into his now-cowering tormentor, and, then, won the match within 15 seconds by executing a brutal, magnificent step-over-toe hold.
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[1] "2023-04-05 10:41:28 EDT"Your Comments & Corrections
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