By Tom_Frederiksen

MONTESANO WA : Aug 2007 - Hell's Angels were tearing up the Stones concert at Altamont, those lucky enough to have a color television were watching Neil Armstrong jump around on the moon, and Dutch Savage was reigning carnage on the city of Portland Oregon.

Starting early in 1969 I began to attend the weekly Professional Wrestling show held at the Portland Sports Arena. The organization was known by a few names in different regions, Big Time Wrestling, Portland Wresting. I understand that the local weekly television broadcast was even picked up in England.

I am writing this as I had the chance to speak with Dutch Savage recently.  The guy who held the place together until about 1982 both in and out of the ring.  The thought struck me that not only are the legends of what made this sport great getting older….so am I.

What is presented on Television and in massive stadiums today is different. I can understand it. The money dictates the form. This wasn’t always the case.

The home during my time as a fan (1968-1971) was the The Portland Sports Arena.  It was located in a dumpy part of North Portland, more industrial than what you would expect and quite run down. As you drove into the crappy pot hole infested parking lot , nosed your car against a worn hole infested chain link fence, you felt like you were going to a fight.  It was dark, seedy, and always Portland damp.

The smart wrestling fan called ahead and reserved his ticket. Especially if one of the wrestlers like Dutch, or the Von Steigers were finally going to get what was coming to them in a main event that night!

The building was old, intimate, and smelled like an old wrestling arena. The chairs were uncomfortable cheap folding metal seats and the concession stand full of home made goods. There was nothing slick about it.

It was a good sized building with the ring in the center.  There were no bad seats.  You entered and walked past the announcers booth  which was elevated a few feet above the ring right on the main floor. One walked down into the seating area so that directly in front of you was the ring and behind you the booth. This was good seating for as much went on in the Crow’s Nest, as it was called, as in the ring.

The booth was a small room large enough to hold the announcer, and two wrestlers for interviews tightly. Which was a problem as often times there were six or more in there fighting.  The  booth was routinely charged by angry wrestlers coming out of the locker room a few feet away unhappy about was being said.

The crowd was pretty savvy as if you heard someone bad mouthing another wrestler in the booth during an interview you could pretty much count on that wrestler charging out of the room to exact his revenge. We would sort of quietly part and make a hole for the charge. Wrestling fans are a lot of things, but we aren’t stupid.  The art of the post match interview was honed in the Portland Sports Arena.

There wasn’t much in that booth other than a securely bolted down desk for good reason.

To this day I am not sure if the chicken wire was meant to keep the wrestlers in, or the fans out.

He wasn’t a wrestler. Just the right man in the right place at the right time. Deadpan soft spoken, well dressed, tall and skinny, young, and almost with an attitude of “why am I here?”. Which made it perfect.

Frank was an extension of the fans. Instead of asking probing questions after the match in the booth, he would stick the microphone in the face of some sweaty 300 pound screaming wrestler and sort of lean back. Unsure if he was going to make it out of the booth that night alive.

Frank was famous for the understatement. One night a trophy was presented to Lonnie Mayne…a “Fans Trophy”. This was heavily promoted for weeks and a big deal as poor Lonnie was constantly being put upon by jealous wrestlers who the fans hated….well, like Dutch Savage.   I think it was Dutch that ruined the event by coming into the ring and taking the trophy and smashing it to bits over Lonnies'  head.   Frank turned to the camera, expressionless (as was most often the case) and said “well, I don’t know, I just don’t know”…..classic.

As a fan of professional wrestling for over forty years now, I can state with conviction that Frank Bonnema  was the best to ever call a match, or conduct a wrestling interview. He passed in 1982 suddenly. Whenever my mind wanders to those years of the late 60’s and early 70’s and the fun I had as a fan at the arena, my thoughts run to Frank as much as they do to the wrestlers themselves.

I haven’t asked Dutch directly, but I suspect he would think of the wrestlers today as not being able to go a two out of three match for over an hour ….often more. High flying is certainly fun to watch, but for pure mat wrestling talent and stamina, these kids today wouldn’t last a week in the old Portland Wrestling circuit.

In my opinion, this is what makes him an icon of the era. And to some extent, the sport in general. Piper, Ric Flair, Jesse Ventura, countless main event figures that went on to become television stars and wrestling legends in their own right today, can trace their beginning and foundation back to Dutch.

In a way Dutch Savage was a bridge between the purity of the sport of Professional Wrestling and the media it has become today. The toughness of the sport, the savvy art of the entertainment was passed down to him, and he by example passed it on.

Whether or not those who learned at his hand will make a difference to the new kids coming up we will all have to wait and see. 

There is no doubt that Dutch will read this and have a list as long as your arm of some of the older guys that he worked with that also passed on the sport, but I will leave that to him.

I was lucky enough to be at an age to still see how it was and should be done. High school came and went and early in 1971 I said goodbye to the Portland area, but the memories still hold fast. As an older man now able to reflect on the time, I think what made it special was the closeness and interaction of the fan to the sport. We were part of it, not held away at arms length and dismissed.

There was no mad rush for autographs as the locker room opened. Oh I suppose they would be happy to and often did, but why? They were right there.  I did get a signed record sleeve from Beauregard (pictured left) with his henchman The Claw.  Beauregard was a sort of celebrity as he was also producing records when not sleazing his way into the ring.

I have to digress a moment as I have a Beauregard story of my own...of sorts.  You see, this cad had found some poor grotesque creature under the Burnside Bridge in Bum Town, put a mask over his face to cover his hideous features and colored and chained him like an animal.  Not content at his sheer slavery of this poor creature, Beauregard went on to teach this soul to use his massive deformed hand as a claw and attach it to the heart of his victim....you guessed it, causing the man to crash to the floor.

On top of this, he was rumored to be keeping the poor Claws' money!  Well this duo was just too much and I remember wearing a Save the Claw t-shirt one evening and didn't make it into the building.  Hastily running back to my car with the sounds of "get him" in the air.

You could talk to any of them anytime you wanted.

An autograph is a form of detachment, a symbol of distance from the fans. These guys were anything but distant. Still, you minded your manners a bit as I am not sure if a few of these guys wouldn’t be happy to see you in the parking lot after the match. Perhaps give you a personal autograph. There were rules and everyone knew what they were.

Which,  come to think about it, Dutch Savage owes me an apology. One Saturday night in 1970 I was quietly standing outside the Crow’s Nest and minding my own business.  Dutch had just been knocked out by a head butt by Referee and order enforcer Shag Thomas for “punishing” a wrestler he had already beaten and I merely made a constructive comment or two about his behavior.  Instead of taking the criticism and learning from it, he removed the fire extinguisher from it’s supports in the booth and sprayed the crowd yelling at me to "shut up".

For more information on Dutch Savage and the Portland Wrestling years.... see DUTCHSAVAGE.COM