Dick the Brusier goes way back in my memory banks to the point I remember the name. I guess I was about 4 or 5 the last time I heard that name. Honest truth, my dad was a WWI vet and had no time for the Japaneses people. He volunteered for WWII but was turned down because of his eyesight/Muster Gas. My oldest brothers talked dad into going to the wrestling matches in town on a Monday night. My dad decided to take his big old oak homemade walking stick with him. Young Tojo Yamamoto was on the card that night and started baiting the crowd. Totally bad move on his part because he got to near my dad. Paul said dad came up out of that chair to full form, raising that huge stick over his head and a young Tojo wanted no part of him. Dad's blood ran hot for nearly a week after security escorted him and my brothers from the SportsCenter. Dad came from good stock. He stood 6'5 and not a ounce of fat on him. My last memory of him was growing, cutting, and stripping 10 acres of dark and burley tobacco for the Ellis Estate at a young 77 years old. He sold it on Thursday, I got paid my $20.00 for taking care of the garden, picking up corn for the mules feed, and working in tobacco. On Sunday after celebrating my birthday, he kissed my forehead and laid down for a nap. He suffered a massive heart attack that afternoon and we said our last goodbye on my brother's birthday a week later.
It would have been a great unannounced under-card, Big Mack, the Kentucky Giant Farmer, vs Tojo Yamamoto. Wood shoes vs Dad's famous 5 foot plus solid oak battle club/unnecessary walking stick, some 4" to 5" in diameter. He never got over Pearl Harbor.