Back in the days when I was a struggling college student at West Texas State. I did carpet cleaning here and there to make ends meet.  The guy I worked for named Ron who was originally from Fresno, California. How he got to the desolate stretches of the Texas Panhandle, I’m not sure, but he was the typical laid back California surfer dude who didn’t seem to let anything bother him. 

One day he picked me up for a job that was located in a small community outside of Canyon.  On the drive there, he informed me that we were going to clean the carpets of a professional wrestler named Dick Murdock, aka “Captain Redneck”.  At that point I remember becoming uneasy.  I was a fan of wrestling at that time, because growing up on two tv channels (before streaming and cable), wrestling was prime television entertainment on a Saturday night.  And during that time, Murdock was already a legendary figure inside and outside the ring. I knew if we pissed him off, he had the ability to do both me and Ron great harm by any number of wrestling moves – suplex, finger four leg lock, the iron claw (originated by another legendary Texas wrestler Fritz Von Erich), and the bone jarring body slam.  Ron assured me everything would be fine but reminded me not to question the legitimacy of the sport of professional wrestling in Murdock’s presence.  Mama didn’t raise a fool, so I was good with that advice.  All the while, if worse came to worse, I was trying to figure out an exit strategy.  If nothing else, being a track star in high school, I figured I could outrun his 6’3, 310 lb. with my 6’0, 135lb. frame if it came to that.

When we arrived, Murdock greeted us warmly at the door, which was a good sign.  He escorted us in, and we set up the equipment and began to steam and extract.  It was a nice ranch style house, but nothing extravagant that I could see.  Murdock insisted on hovering behind us every step of the way which caused my uneasiness to return.  When we got to the bedroom, he made a point to show us his canopy bed with a television encased within the canopy.  This novelty was certainly ahead of its time for West Texas.

In wrestling parlance, Murdock was a “heel” which means he was the bad guy.  A “baby face” was the good guy.  Just like the old westerns, wrestling  was always a battle between good and evil.  The wrestlers were essentially actors playing a role. It wasn’t that they weren’t skilled, but they practiced the art of “kayfabe” – the act or convention of presenting staged performance as genuine or authentic.  Dick Murdock was one of the best at that.  When personalities mattered more than actual wrestling skill, he could deliver a rant (always knowing where the camera was) about an “opponent” on demand.  The best wrestlers were also good at improv. 

As we were finishing, Murdock invited us to a room at the back of the house.  It was actually the size of a small house and in it housed  his memorabilia, trophies, championship belts, photos and more.  Some of the assorted treasures I noticed were from his stints wrestling in Japan.  As we parted, he told us he was doing vigilante work at West Texas State due to recent  assaults that were going on in this sleepy college campus at the time.  I was thinking who needed the police when you had Dick Murdock on duty.

This story is not so much about Murdock as it is about the state of professional wrestling during that time period.  Pro wrestling at that time consisted of regional territories which had their own distinct flavor and fan base.  The regional territory I watched was called World Class Wrestling Championship Wrestling based in Dallas under the management of the aforementioned Fritz Von Erich who highlighted a talented brood of sons.  However, five of those sons died in tragic circumstances.  Fritz himself committed suicide.  Pro wrestling does indeed take its toll.  The 2008 film The Wrestler, which starred Mickey Rourke in his last distinguished role, portrays the sport in an unflattering but realistic style. The scene I remember most vividly is the one where old, broke, debilitated former pro wrestlers appear at a convention signing memorabilia for whatever they could get.

Vince McMahon would change the sport forever in the 80’s when he bought out and consolidated all of the regional territories under the WWF logo.  And while he gave the sport a national platform and prominence, as far as I was concerned, wrestling had lost its luster for me.  Veteran wrestler Greg “The Hammer” Valentine in an interview made no secret that the sport had a predetermined outcome, something McMahon had to admit before a New Jersey regulatory body.  Yep, I think all reasonable people had reached that same conclusion.  But Valentine insisted that Vince McMahon had jumped the shark.  His “product” was even more gimmicky, more scripted, and outrageous to the point of unbelief.  McMahon’s most cringe worthy moment was in 2001 when he forced a fired wrestler to kiss his bare ass in the ring in order to keep his job. 

The great Dick Murdock passed away in 1996 at the age of 49.  He never was a guy that would kiss anyone’s ass.  I’ll never forget the day I cleaned his carpets.