When I left you last, Chris Tolos had wrestled in the semi-main event in Mansfield, Ohio. He delivered a barrage of ear breaking shouting about him being the greatest thing since sliced bread and ice cubes. He further commented that he was tired of the mid-card athletes that Promoter Fleeser had matched him with, and that he wanted something done about it.

I happened to be a guest ring announcer that night for World Wide Sports and asked Chris if he would meet anyone. He grabbed not only the microphone but me as well and screamed out that he was the Golden Greek, and that he was the best that wrestling had to offer, that he had beaten up everybody that he had met so far. I asked him if he would sign a contract to meet a close friend of mine two weeks later in the Main Event. He said it didn't matter, he would meet and beat any and all friends of mine, and I probably didn't have any friends anyway.

I handed him a pen and asked that he sign the contract. He grabbed the pen and signed his name to the multi-page contract. I had a fan witness his signing, and then I told him that I would be taking the contract to Promoter Fleeser in the morning at his Detroit office. I then informed him and the crowd that the man he would meet in two weeks would be the U.S. Champion, Bobo Brazil.

Chris went absolutely ballistic on me and knocked me to the mat. He began kicking a mud hole in me and then grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up so that he could hit me in the face and chest some more. I had driven that day from Lou Klein's Gym and had Irish Mickey Doyle with me for the trip. It was very fortunate for me that Mickey had showered and was in the rear of the building when Tolos started in on me.

Mickey charged the ring and began hitting Chris on the back. Chris turned and began beating the tar out of Mickey. By then, some of the other wrestlers had hit the ring and broke it up after Tolos got a few licks in on everybody that was in the ring. Four of the guys pushed Tolos into his dressing room and blocked the door, preventing him from coming out. It sounded like he was going to rip the door off its hinges. After about five minutes, he calmed down, went to the shower, and left the building while the Main Event with Ernie Ladd and Chief White Owl was going on.

Two weeks later, Bobo and I left Bobo's home in Benton Harbor for Mansfield. The seven-hour drive was not a problem, as both of us had a good night's sleep and a great meal. I had not spoken to Bobo about what Chris Tolos had done to me after the contract signing. I figured that I would wait till we were in the car and on the way to the matches.

We were on the Ohio Turnpike near Toledo when I said to Bobo, "You know that you're meeting Chris Tolos tonight. I want to warn you that he is in a bitter mood for what I did to him two weeks ago. I also want to let you know that he beat the devil out of six of us in the ring that night." Bobo didn't say a lot, as he was busy on the CB radio talking to some trucker who knew him. When he finished, he looked over at me and said, "Did he hurt you?" I said that I had been in some pretty tough battles, and that I would survive.

Bobo looked out the window on his side, turned to me, and said, "Tonight might be the last you will see of that Tolos guy if I have anything to do with it. Nobody. But NOBODY puts their hands on my friends and gets away with it." I had seen Bobo in some pretty nasty moods and seen him irritated, but I had never seen him act this way before. It was like he was in a whole different world, and I was not about to change his mind about anything. He was big enough to handle whatever he wanted to.

We arrived at the auditorium at around 7 p.m. and went in. I was wrestling in a tag match that night with Gordon Nelson against the Love Brothers. We went to our dressing room and began to get ready for the night. I started doing some deep squats and push-ups, along with sit-ups. I looked over, and Bobo was just sitting there with a blank look on his face and a small tear coming down his cheek.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Bob Willer, the matchmaker, came into the room. He shook hands with everybody and said that it was going to be another sellout crowd, and that he had hired extra security for the event. Bobo, who usually had the dressing room in stitches by now, had been very quiet and hardly spoke to anybody. Suddenly, he stood upright to his 6'6", looked over at Bob, and said, "How could you let that no good dirty S.O.B. Tolos put his hands on the ring announcer last time? You know that he and I go back a long ways as friends, and I don't like what he did. Is he here tonight?" Bob replied, "Yes, Bobo. He is in the building and is still hot about the way that he was tricked into a match against you.

"He wanted to file charges against us for tricking him but was sidetracked when we told him he was fighting for the U.S. Title tonight." Bobo shoved his index finger into Bob's chest and told him that the belt didn't mean anything to him tonight, that he was going to take care of Tolos for putting his hands on his friend, and that this might be the last that we would ever see of Tolos. He then told Bob to go to the other dressing room and tell that "low-life skunk" what he had said, and pushed him out the door.

Bobo sat down very calmly after that and started getting ready himself. He looked over at me and said, "Are you OK, kid?" Then, he said, "Sometimes, you just have to get stuff off your chest. I am ready now, both physically and mentally, to meet that guy."

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers