Ox Baker

This is a true story... none of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. It is being reprinted by popular demand.

1972 was a very good year for myself and for the wrestler I managed. He had come from faraway Scotland, where he was the British Empire champion. His name was Angus Campbell, a 290-pounder, better known in the wrestling rings as Black Angus.

For some 13 weeks, Angus and I had beaten the best competition the NWA could muster up in the Midwest … stars like Bobby Whitlock from Alabama ... Steve Bolus from Athens ... Omar Atlas from South America ... Danny Little Bear from Oklahoma ... Rufus R. Jones from Amarillo ... Bob Geigel from Iowa ... and Pat O'Connor from New Zealand.

Promoter Gust Karras, from the St. Joe Wrestling office was at his wits' end, trying to end our reign as winners. He stated on St. Joe TV that he had signed the top box office draw in the Midwest to meet us in a handicap match at the civic auditorium in St. Joseph, Missouri the following Friday night, and if I tried to get out of the match, I would be barred from the territory.

Then, he dropped a bombshell on us. I figured that maybe Sonny Myers, maybe Ronnie Etchison (the ole pro from St. Joe), or maybe a title shot against Dory Funk Jr., the reigning NWA World champ, would be his pick … WRONG … He had signed BIG DUMB OX BAKER, the wrestling monster who had been raising all kinds of ruckus in Omaha and points west to face us both.

Needless to say, I was not at all happy about the match or the fact that the one-legged promoter got one over on me, but I was determined that Baker would not get his hands on me … under any circumstances.

I went on TV and stated that Ox Baker was a giant fumbling galoot with nothing but cheating and rulebreaking on his mind, and that I would personally whip his body from one side of the arena to the other and didn't need Angus in my corner, other than for moral support.

Friday night … St. Joe Civic Auditorium ... the joint was packed to the rafters ... more people than ever before at the matches. I was looking out the curtains, and someone spotted me and started to chant, "You belong to Ox" ... I was scared to death; here I was, only a 200-lb. Man, and Baker was 300 if he was an ounce. Angus said, "Don't go out there, he will tear you apart." Suddenly, the bell rang for the Main Event.

Moody, the referee, stuck his head into our room and said, "All right ... let's go." My knees would hardly support my body, and I called out to Angus for his help. He picked me up like a six-year-old and had me in his right arm and carried me out to the ring.

I took one look across the ring and wanted to die right then and there. The sight of Ox Baker is enough to scare the devil into going to church. The bell rang ... Angus threw me onto the ring apron and grabbed Ox and suplexed him almost out of his tights and proceeded to give him the thrashing of his life. Needless to say, Angus was the victor in the match some 20 minutes later. I never got a chance to put my hands on Baker ... bad for him, good for me.

In a postmatch interview, Ox stated to Wrestling Revue reporters covering the event that he had never faced anyone as strong as Angus. He said of the suplexes, he never knew he was on his way up till he was already on the way down.

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers