Memories Of Johnny Weaver And Saturday Afternoons

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Wrestler Johnny Weaver

Mid-Atlantic legend Johnny Weaver, who passed away recently in Charlotte at the age of 72, was one of the most beloved performers to ever wrestle in the Carolinas.

"Turn out the lights, the party's over, they say that all good things must end:" - Willie Nelson

Whenever I think about Mid-Atlantic Wrestling and Jim Crockett Promotions, my mind invariably takes me back to the days when County Hall was the place to be on Friday nights and the black-and-white Saturday afternoon wrestling show emanated from a small TV studio in Raleigh.

From Charleston to Norfolk and all points in between, it was a territory that thrived on unique characters who could make people believe and have them coming back each week for more. Many of those names from that bygone era are gone now, leaving behind memories that will last a lifetime for those who were lucky enough to be around that special time.

No name was bigger, and no wrestler was more beloved, than Johnny Weaver.

Weaver, who passed away Feb. 15 at the age of 72 at his home in Charlotte, was to wrestling fans in the Carolinas what Mickey Mantle was to baseball and Johnny Unitas was to football. He wasn't particularly flashy, but that was part of his appeal. He was a genuine everyman's hero who related to the predominantly blue-collar audience that followed the sport religiously back in those days.

One of those fans was me.

Watching the Saturday afternoon wrestling show was a ritual for me and my grandmother, a sweet, soft-spoken, little Greek lady who turned into a rabid fanatic whenever one of her favorites was on the receiving end of the bad guys' underhanded and devious tactics. With her wooden cane taking dead aim at the television set, she would yell and scream in a mixture of Greek and broken English, as if she could somehow get the attention of the hapless referee who never could quite catch the villains in the act.

Granny had her share of favorites, but no one could touch Johnny Weaver.

It's been nearly 45 years since I first saw Johnny Weaver wrestle, and I've often told him the story about my Greek grandmother. He'd always laugh, wondering how he could have that kind of effect on a fan. To be honest, though, he had that kind of effect on a lot of folks. And he did until the day he died.

Becker and Weaver

Billed from Indianapolis, Ind., but actually born in East St. Louis, Ill., Johnny Weaver was the biggest fan favorite to ever come through the Carolinas. He arrived in Charlotte, headquarters of Crockett Promotions, in 1962 and made it his home. He occasionally appeared in other parts of the country, but only for limited amounts of time, always returning to the area that adopted him and the fans who made him their local hero.

During the '60s, if you mentioned the name Johnny Weaver, the name George Becker was usually in that same sentence. The two were virtual bookends and the territory's top team in those days.

While Becker at that time was the ringwise veteran and elder statesman of the territory, Weaver proved to be the ideal complement as his young babyface partner. It was a match made in wrestling heaven, especially since the Carolinas-Virginia territory was a hotbed for tag teams during the '60s, and the majority of main events consisted of tag bouts featuring some of the best combos in the business.

Becker and Weaver ruled the roost, holding the Southern and Atlantic Coast tag-team belts and enjoying profitable programs with such formidable duos as Rip Hawk and Swede Hanson, Skull Murphy and Brute Bernard, Aldo Bogni and Bronco Lubich, The Masked Bolos, The Andersons, The Masked Red Demons, The Masked Infernos, and The Missouri Mauler and The Great Malenko, just to name a few.

The team also set attendance marks throughout the area, including a record at the old County Hall for a match with The Red Demons in which the champions put their belts and their hair on the line against the masked pair's hoods and identities. Becker and Weaver had Klondike Bill in their corner to neutralize Demons' manager George "Two Ton" Harris. The popular champs kept their straps and their hair, while The Demons unmasked and were revealed to be Billy and Jimmy Hines.

Weaver was only 26 when he first came to the Carolinas from Indianapolis, and once said that Becker's experience helped him immensely.

"George was a great partner and a great man. He was also a very good tutor. I was the `young blood' so I did most of the wrestling, and I'd tag George when I'd get in trouble."

There were other partners along the way with whom Weaver shared success and titles - stars such as the popular Cowboy Bob Ellis, 601-pound Haystacks Calhoun, strongman Sailor Art Thomas, rugged Art Nelson and the acrobatic Argentina Apollo. His final tag-team reigns were with Dewey Robertson and Jay Youngblood in 1981.

But none clicked the way Becker and Weaver did.

"George Becker and Johnny Weaver were it," said respected veteran Abe Jacobs. "Johnny kept the team together."

Weaver could only chuckle when thinking about the many tag matches they won with him using the sleeper hold and Becker, all 5-8 and 185 pounds of him, and jokingly referred to by his opponents as "skinny legs," applying his vaunted abdominal stretch. "I can't count that high," he would say.

But he also admitted that Becker was unflappable and a steadying influence on him. Nothing bothered him, according to Weaver, and the two never had an argument during all the road trips they made together. That unflappable nature eventually extended to Weaver.

"I don't think I ever remember seeing the guy upset or anything like that," promoter Greg Price said of Weaaver. "He was just as cool as a cucumber. What a guy."

Mid-Atlantic hero

A generation of Mid-Atlantic fans grew up watching Johnny Weaver battle the bad guys. To longtime pundits like Dick Bourne, Weaver was a sports star of the first order. He was a good-looking, smooth-working babyface with an All-American smile and an easygoing personality. He was, in wrestling parlance, "over."

"He was such a household name back then," says Bourne, who runs the Mid-Atlantic Gateway site. "As a kid in the '60s and early '70s, I could list on one hand who the real sports stars were. There was Johnny Unitas, Pete Rose, Wilt Chamberlain and Johnny Weaver. That's how big he was to us."

Although Weaver's specialty was tag-team wrestling, he also was an accomplished singles performer who held a slew of titles and was a top challenger to every NWA world champion from Lou Thesz to Gene Kiniski, Dory Funk Jr. and Jack Brisco.

"There's a lot of people who came through this territory and worked the towns, and it seemed like Johnny was here forever," said Price. "Johnny knew wrestling like the back of his hand. Not only the wrestling part, but the promotion part, too. You see a lot of guys who leave wrestling and try to promote shows and book, but it's like apples and oranges. It's two different things. But Johnny was so good at both. He was equally as good at promoting as he was wrestling. He knew every back road and every contact. He had relationships with everybody - every building, every town. The only person I can compare him to, as far as that aspect, would be (longtime Charleston promoter) Henry Marcus."

Rusty Loudermilk of Pittsburgh, who grew up in Charlotte, said Weaver will never be replaced.

"Respect in wrestling is not given - it is earned - and he had the respect from all of us. He was more than a wrestler to me. He was more than 'one of the boys.' He was a great friend to me doing my childhood and most of my adult life as well."

Loudermilk, who suffers from cerebral palsy, fondly remembers Weaver clowning around with him, playfully applying his signature sleeper hold.

"He was the kind of guy who just related so well to his fans. It's no wonder that people still fondly remember him to this day."

"He was special," said Price. "When you talk about heroes and Mid-Atlantic Wrestling, Johnny Weaver was right there at the top of the list."

Weaver was universally respected by those he worked with in the business.

To longtime star Blackjack Mulligan (Bob Windham), Weaver was the anchor for Mid-Atlantic Wrestling, a steadying force who knew the territory better than anyone else.

"Johnny had the greatest mind in the business," said Mulligan, who added that his friend had a book of finishes that covered every match he had ever worked. "One night I asked him if he would decode that thing. He was the best finish man in the business. He was a master at this business."

The loss saddened an entire community of wrestlers and former wrestlers. One of the hardest hit was Jim Nelson (Jim Harrell), who began his career in the early '80s as Private Jim Nelson in Sgt. Slaughter's "Cobra Corps" along with partner Don Kernodle.

"I got sick when I heard about Johnny's passing on my way home. I had to pull over and sit on the side of the road for a couple of hours. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Johnny was Mr. Mid-Atlantic Wrestling," added Nelson. "There's no doubt about it. Everybody knew who Johnny Weaver was. He helped me so much when I came here and taught me stuff in the ring. He was a super guy, a great friend, and God, I'm going to miss him. When Don and I got together, he helped both of us tremendously. It was stuff you never forgot.

"He always went out of his way to put guys over. As far as he was concerned, he had been made a long time ago. He always worked for the wrestling match. He once told me that you're only as good as the guy you're in the ring with. He believed that with all his heart."

"It's still hard to believe," said Price. "It's hard to imagine that he's not here anymore. He was part of us for so long. I don't think there'll ever be another one like him."

Jody Hamilton remembers starting out in the business with Weaver in the mid-'50s in Hamilton's hometown of St. Joseph, Mo. The two youngsters pulled the rings for promoter Gust Karras and worked out in the ring after setting them up. Soon Weaver was teaming with local veteran Sonny Meyers as the Weaver Brothers.

"Sonny Meyers had a lot of influence on his style of work. He copied Sonny quite a bit, and Johnny turned out to be a premier performer," said Hamilton.

A few years later, both Weaver and Hamilton would be headliners in the business, their paths meeting again in the Carolinas and Virginia, with Weaver one of the circuit's top babyfaces, and Hamilton and partner Tom Renesto two of the top heels as The Masked Bolos (also known as The Assassins).

"We worked with Johnny lots of times when he was with (Haystacks) Calhoun, and worked with him when he was with George Becker," said Hamilton. "At Becker's age, of course, Johnny carried the team. As a worker, Johnny was in the upper echelon. As far as his contribution to the business, he was always the ultimate professional. I had nothing but respect for his uncanny ring ability. At one time, he was one of the elite performers in the business. He was a credit to this profession."

Johnny Weaver was all of that for sure.

Just like old times

Weaver filled many roles in the wrestling business - as a main-event performer, a booker and office man, a color commentator in the announce booth, and a mentor to many. Affectionately known as "the dean of professional wrestling," his storied career spanned more than four decades.

Weaver told the Mid-Atlantic Gateway site in an interview last year that he could tell when his in-ring days were numbered.

"You know how I knew time was passing me by? I was always fan friendly, and I would get dressed and go out and talk to the people all the time during all of the matches up until it was time for me to go on. I did that for years and years and years. The girls would all run up and hug me. And then finally, they started running up to me, the girls, and they'd throw their arms around me, about a hundred of them, and they'd whisper in my ear, 'Go get Ricky Steamboat.' And then I knew I was over the hill."

When his wrestling career officially ended in 1989, he took a position with the Mecklenburg County Sheriff's Department, a job he held until his death. In his 50's at the time, Weaver became one of the oldest people to take the basic law enforcement test, even though he was tougher, stronger and in better shape than some officers half his age.

Longtime Cauliflower Alley member Al Mandell, who had worked at the department for 10 years under a previous administration, helped get Weaver the job.

"He called me up when Turner let him go. He called me and told me he needed to talk to me, so we met at Valentino's Restaurant," recalled Mandell. "He told me he wanted to go to the sheriff's department. The chief deputy was a very good friend of mine, and I introduced him to him and the sheriff. And that was it."

Weaver spent most of his 19-year second career transporting prisoners on the same back roads he'd traveled as a wrestler and promoter.

Like most heroes, though, Weaver wasn't perfect or infallible , nor did he hold himself up as a role model. His 35-year relationship with women's wrestling star Penny Banner was far from the ideal marriage, with the two separating more than a dozen years ago. Both would readily point out, though, that something wonderful came out of it, and that was their daughter Wendi.

Weaver had attended Greg Price's inaugural Mid-Atlantic Wrestling Legends Fanfest in 2004, and was looking forward to being inducted into the Hall of Heroes at this year's event in August. What made it even more enticing, says Price, is that Weaver was going to be inducted by old ring rival Rip Hawk.

"He was so looking forward to that," said Price. "Rip was inducted last year and had told Johnny what a great experience it was, and apparently that was the key to the whole deal. He was very happy when I told him that I wanted Rip to be the one to induct him. I just hate that it didn't work out. It's something I definitely was looking forward to."

Weaver also attended a "Johnny Weaver Weekend" event last November in Rocky Mount, Va., that brought together some of his old fans and friends who threw him a surprise birthday party.

Two of those who attended were Sandy Scott, who first worked with Weaver in the Carolinas in the '60s, and Jim Nelson, who worked with Weaver two decades later.

Nelson, like many other aspiring wrestlers, had grown up idolizing Weaver. It was a dream come true when he actually had the opportunity to team with him briefly in the early '80s. It was yet another honor for Nelson when he got to get in the ring with him for an angle at the November show.

"Me and Johnny Weaver were in the ring again like a tag team. We had tagged up years ago when I turned babyface against Slaughter and them. It was just like old times. It was a great night."

Nelson said he almost forgot what he was doing when Weaver clamped his sleeper hold on an opponent as he was applying the cobra clutch.

"Johnny was so excited when he got in the ring that night. It was like he hadn't missed a step. I was supposed to get the cobra clutch on the manager, and I got so caught up watching Johnny, I almost forgot about what I was doing. I had goose bumps."

"As far as I know, that was the last time Johnny ever used the sleeper," added Nelson.

Nelson said it was a night he'll never forget.

"He was just like a little kid back there in the dressing room that night. He was so excited about being there and talking about wrestling and kicking stuff around. He was so creative. He had an unbelievable mind for the business. We were in awe in the dressing room that night as he talked about all these finishes. He was so wound up. It was like we had stepped back in time 20 years and were back in Charlotte."

It was the first time Scott had seen Weaver in nearly 15 years.

"We really enjoyed getting together. It was great seeing him again," said Scott. "We had some long talks, and we sat down and caught up on things. It brought back some good memories. It seemed like we had just seen each other a couple of weeks ago."

Not only did Scott team on occasion with Weaver in tag matches and in six-man bouts with Becker and Weaver, the two were pretty good at handball. "He was a handball partner of mine, and we played two or three times a week. We took on all comers, and we were pretty good at it," laughed Scott.

If there was a team that rivaled Becker and Weaver, it had been Sandy Scott and brother George.

"One team would never cover the south, and the other team would go up north, to towns like Norfolk, Richmond, Hampton and Roanoke. And we would switch off every four or five weeks," said Scott.

Weaver had learned how to operate a computer in recent months, thanks to longtime Mid-Atlantic fan Peggy Lathan, and was enjoying exchanging correspondence with fans, friends and former colleagues. Bourne and Carroll Hall also set up a Web site for him.

"I had gotten an e-mail from him a day or two before he died," said Nelson. "It's still hard for me to believe."

Weaver and Mulligan also had recently communicated. Mulligan had asked Weaver to spend this past Christmas with him and his family in Texas.

"We spent Christmas with the family sitting on the Saba River, cooking out and having the greatest time," said Mulligan. "I asked Johnny to fly on down to San Angelo, and I was going to pick him up. We'd have a great Christmas with roasted hens and dressing and stuff, and I told him he'd love it here. I called him a week in advance and told him we were going to do something a little different. But he said (daughter) Wendi was coming over, and he was expecting her. I never did find out, but I really hoped she did come over that day."

The final chapter

I talked to Johnny a couple of weeks before he passed. He had just been sworn in again as deputy sheriff and was looking forward to his retirement in October from the Mecklenburg County Sheriff's Department.

We talked about the "glory days" in the Mid-Atlantic area, and I asked him if he thought much about them.

"Oh, God, almost every day," he said without a hint of hesitation.

We also talked - again - about how my late grandmother loved watching Johnny Weaver every Saturday afternoon. "God bless her soul," he laughed wistfully.

Of course, the entertainment quotient wasn't as high back in those days, but Saturday afternoon wrestling was still appointment viewing.

"I've had many people tell me, 'Boy, Daddy worked us hard, but at 5 o'clock in the afternoon we were in front of the TV and we had to be quiet.' There wasn't much around back then, and we didn't have basketball, football and all that we've got now," said Weaver. "Outside of racing, which was seasonal, we had wrestling. And that would come on every Saturday, and it was done in little studios in High Point, Charlotte and Raleigh."

We also talked about all "the boys" we had lost over the past few years. Especially the ones who had made the Mid-Atlantic area one of the top territories in the country. Weaver noted Mid-Atlantic legends like Nellie (Royal), Swede (Hanson), Gene (Anderson), Mr. Wrestling (Tim Woods), Two Ton (Harris), Klondike (Bill). "All from right around area," he noted.

He was counting down the working days until his retirement in October. "I work a crazy schedule. Twelve hours a day," he said, reciting a portion of his breakneck schedule.

But it was not to be.

Just days later, he failed to show up for work, which was highly unusual for the punctual and dedicated lawman. Fellow deputies went to his home to check on their colleague, and found him dead.

He reportedly had taken a physical a few days earlier, and had checked out OK. His death was attributed to natural causes.

Weaver was buried Wednesday in Forest Lawn East Cemetery in Matthews, N.C. "Ironically," noted Dick Bourne, "he was buried less than 15 yards from where another legend of wrestling was laid to rest 16 years ago - his friend Gene Anderson."

Wrestlers past and present, law enforcement officials, friends, family and fans turned out to pay their last respects.

"I had never been in a funeral procession for someone in law enforcement before," Bourne posted in a blog. "One of the lasting memories I will have of that day was topping each hill on the way to graveside and seeing, stretched out before me, a line of seemingly endless patrol cars with blue lights flashing, slowly winding through Mecklenburg County, on their way to see Johnny laid to rest. It was a jolting reminder that a brotherhood of officers had lost one of their own. And they were there in force to say goodbye."

Don Kernodle, who broke into the business working for Crockett Promotions in the late '70s, spoke of his longtime friendship with Weaver during the service.

"Have any of you ever loved someone before you even knew them?" Kernodle asked. "That is what it was like for me with Johnny Weaver. I loved him as a child growing up watching wrestling."

When I think of Johnny Weaver, I'll think about that everyman's wrestler who always showed up at the arena with a smile, always had time to sign an autograph or take a photo, and the enjoyment my grandmother got out of watching him every Saturday.

And I'll also think about the times, as the color man alongside Rich Landrum, David Crockett and Bob Caudle, he'd launch into, "Turn out the lights, the party's over," as a match neared its finish.

All good things, indeed, must come to an end, but the memories of Johnny Weaver will last forever.

Reach Mike Mooneyham at (843) 937-5517 or mooneyham@postandcourier.com.

For wrestling updates during the week, call The Post and Courier Info Line at (843) 937-6000, ext. 3090.