When I left you last...

Les Thornton had been in Calgary for three months and had wiped up the mat with everybody he had faced. Old-timers and new guys just breaking into the business had felt the strength, the speed and the wrestling knowledge. It seemed that Les could find no match for himself and wanted to fight for the North American Heavyweight Championship, held at that time by Archie Gouldie (The Stomper).

Archie was a no-frills type of guy that neither wore a fancy robe nor pattern designed tights into the ring. Just a pair of tan trunks and those tan STOMPING BOOTS that he had specially made for himself. Someone once said that, if he was to kick you with those boots, he could break bones. They also said that it seemed that they were metal-reinforced. I never got close enough to get kicked ... and doubt I would have wanted to.

Les finally got a title shot in Regina, Saskatchewan; he couldn't wait to get his hands on Gouldie. He was sure of victory. The auditorium was packed to capacity. People were offered standing room only tickets and being turned away. The night was very cold, and snow covered the grounds outside. In the building, excitement was starting as the opening match brought a newcomer to the area ... Black Angus Campbell, along with his very vociferous manager named Percival A. Friend. Angus had been the mentor of Les Thornton in England. They had been friends for a number of years and had been tag team partners, very successfully, I might add.

Angus had won his match against one of the Harts and caused a lot of discomfort in the dyed-in-the-wool fans that thought the Hart Family members were unbeatable. Why, to talk to a fan in Canada, the only thing that would beat a Hart was KRYPTONITE. Angus and I changed their thoughts on that.

Every bout on that card was a main event match in any arena anywhere. Top stars from the world were there. Japan was represented ... Australia was represented ... The U.S. was represented ... Mexico was also represented. Oh ... did I mention Scotland? It seemed that Stu Hart wanted to embarrass Les in front of the world. Now, the rest was up to Les. Could he upset the unbeatable Gouldie?

It took six Mounties to get the Manchester, England grappler to the ring. Canadian fans had become very irritated at the words he had spoken on TV about their champ, Archie Gouldie. One fan was disarmed of a .38 snub nose revolver and taken to the local lockup. Others had reached out to try and get a poke into him but were met by not only arms but also stares back by the R.C.M.P. officers. NOBODY in their right mind would mess with a Mountie … you would not win.

Archie Gouldie was carried to the ring by his fans on their shoulders. The roar of the crowd was deafening to my ears. Why, just a month before this, Gouldie was the most hated man in the Calgary territory. I never could figure fans out anyway ... I personally didn't care as long as they paid their way into the arena to see me. I was only interested in the financial aspect of the business.

The bell rang in the two-out-of-three-fall match, and Les charged the taller, heavier opponent. They hooked up in a referee hold, and it seemed like they were locked in that same position for five minutes ... finally, both men, in a mutual shove, pushed away from each other. Had Les met his match? Had Archie finally met someone of his caliber?

They continued testing each other's strength until three fans jumped into the ring, nearly causing a riot to start. Those fans north of the U.S. border have a funny way of showing admiration. Les, at the 25-minute mark, finally grabbed Gouldie in a side salto suplex and dumped Archie on his back for the three count. Archie came back after the customary one-minute rest period between falls and stomped a mud hole in Les with those boots and got a pin to win the second fall. The third and deciding fall had a little over 30 minutes of the one-hour time limit left.

Angus and I had showered and gotten into our street clothes and were watching the match from the rear of the auditorium but decided to get a closer view. We entered the ringside area in a chorus of BOO's and name-calling. Not one fan dared reach out for Angus to try and grab him. They were scared to death of his size and appearance. He was ugly enough to scare anyone. At 6'9" and 290 pounds, he scared the Yell out of a lot of people.

The bell rang ... Thornton looked over at Angus and me seated at ringside and said, "And what in the BLOODY HELL do you think your a doin' out here?" Les got out of the ring and jumped right into Angus' face at ringside and had completely forgotten about Gouldie in the ring. It seemed like Thornton was so obsessed with winning the title that he wanted NO ONE stopping his chances of being CHAMPION. He reached out and tried to punch me ... Angus blocked the arm and fist. He tried to get me and Angus to leave, but we had other ideas...

To be continued...