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RALPH FREED AND CHOO-CHOO LYNN
– Dick Steinborn
May 26, 2008
In the Georgia territory, Choo-Choo Lynn was a front man in Macon, Georgia, for Fred Ward. He ran a small office in downtown Macon
where tickets were sold. He arranged for the window cards to be put out, and made sure the ring was secure when wrestling came to
Macon. All the boys liked Choo-Choo. He was one of the boys who pioneered wrestling with his early appearances in the ring; a real nice
guy.
Ralph Freed and Leon Ogle were Fred Ward’s sons-in-law. The respect from the boys stopped at their doorstep.
Leon refereed all the matches in Columbus, Georgia. A lot of times he would change the endings on a whim because he thought it was
better his way. Remember, the Atlanta office had nothing to do with his refereeing, and Leon’s decisions were always backed up by
his father-in-law Fred.
Ralph handled the newspaper publicity, ran the office at the Sports Arena in Columbus, and worked the shows on Wednesday night. The
boys had nothing but trouble with this guy. He had a Napoleon attitude, standing five-foot seven inches.
When a suggestion from one dressing room was sent to the other by Ralph, the messenger, most of the time he couldn’t remember
what was needed in a particular match, and he, too, who never wrestled, would change the message with a simple, “Just small
package him.�
My father used to say if you took your Rolex watch to a watchmaker for repair, you trusted your watch would be repaired correctly. Then to
later find out when you left the store, the proprietor would walk out on the street and ask a passerby to come in and repair the watch. The
passerby in this case was Ralph being involved with the innermost workings of a wrestling match and its timing.
One night the Torres Brothers had it with Ralph, and when a demonstration of a two-hand chop to the chest while coming off the ropes
was explained to Ralph, both Torres brothers slammed their palms into Freed’s chest hard, showing disrespect for the messenger
who should have stayed in the office. Ralph fell backwards against the wall as the Torres brothers stared into Ralph’s eyes with
disrespect. The messenger got the message.
His brother-in-law Leon had run-ins with a few of the boys, including me, Assassin #2, El Mongol, and a few others.
When you worked for the ABC Booking office in Atlanta under the control of a super booker like Leo Garibaldi, the boys felt cheated when
they had to listen to Fred Ward’s two sons-in-law.
To hear the boys talk, it was always a problem when they worked Fred Ward’s towns.
When Ray Gunkel died, I jumped on the opportunity to promote in Columbus and did so for three years. Part of my motivation to promote
was due to the fact that I would finally be rid of the stench that we all had to smell, when appearing in Fred Ward’s towns. I may
sound bitter about the past in the southern Georgia area, but I didn’t stand alone.
Case in point: First, it is well known that Milo and Dick Steinborn loved the wrestling business. I was taught to watch every match, and
add to, or take away, what you saw when two guys put on a performance. The memories that you store in your brain can be given away to
those who are most deserving.
When I married “Miss Columbus� Janelle Oates, I was introduced to my two new brothers-in-laws, Ted, age 10, and Jerry, age 13
or 14. Of course, when my wife and I returned to Georgia occasionally, the boys had decided to take up amateur wrestling at my
encouragement. As they got older they got better, and then they wanted to turn pro, with the years of experience that I had gathered was
now funneled into these two talented athletes. No charge.
I settled in Florida to help my dad promote. Jerry, who was so adamant about going into the business, moved to Florida where he took a
menial job only to be on hand for personal training at a local YMCA two or three times a week. Then, the conversation about the
business, while making those Florida trips once or twice a week. Jerry was ready.
Everyone moved back to Columbus and Ted started his training.
I convinced the Atlanta office that Jerry was ready. I insisted that both boys referee their first appearance in the squared circle. As a
referee, they could see, here, smell, touch, and feel two guys performing a wrestling match. It’s like being inside an apple core.
I’m sure Bobby Simmons could write a whole book on the continuous conversations and anecdotes that he heard from superstars,
while Bobby was refereeing for the new Georgia office.
Jerry Oates was primed to adjust to what he was taught. The Assassin saw a potential star and was willing too help mold him to a
successful career as a pro.
Now my case in point: Jerry was to make his first appearance in his home town of Columbus. He was booked in a twenty-minute match
against Assassin #2. Many local fans came to see a hometown boy make good. The Assassin and I realized that our past experience
was like two buckets of talent, but only halfway full. Jerry was the empty bucket and he was about to start filling up that bucket.
I told Jerry before he went into the ring that the fifteen-minute draw match can only be highlighted if in the last 30-40 seconds he is
making his comeback and making the Assassin pay for his evil deeds. Jerry could dropkick well, two or three at a time.
I explained to Jerry that when the bell rings and the draw is declared, he should let the Assassin leave the ring. When the masked man
gets halfway to the dressing room, I told Jerry to jump up on the second turnbuckle and insist that his opponent return for an extra five
minutes.
It all worked well. Jerry was up on the turnbuckle asking the Assassin to come back, and the fans were cheering their heads off. Jerryâ
€™s schoolmates were thrilled to see how well Jerry had done.
Then it happened. The referee, Leon Ogle, decided on his own to ring the bell and start counting the Assassin out. Of course, Jody
returned to the ring, and for the next five minutes the two opponents couldn’t get what Leon nipped in the bud. It stunk, and boy was I
hot. Leon returned to the dressing room with an ego that he was going to lay on all of us.
In front of all the boys I said to this man, “What right did you have to take it upon yourself to add five minutes on your own to a fifteen-
minute match?� His answer to me was, “That’ll teach you guys that I am in charge in the ring�. Wow! I was looking to be
fired, and I didn’t care.
The Assassin was selling out in Augusta, Georgia, week after week, and the Atlanta was satisfied with my work on the northern end. Fred
Ward never said a word about me questioning his son-in-law in front of all the boys, who knew I was right.
Now it was my turn. I got with Jody in Augusta when we worked out this plan to stick it to Leon.
Fred Ward had booked Jerry and the Assassin in a return Columbus match the following Wednesday. This time it was a twenty-minute
match. I got with Jerry and laid out the plan. I had visualized this ending in my mind, and relied on the two principle players to complete
the deed.
Wednesday night arrived and Jerry stepped through the ropes with a little more experience under his belt, while the fans gave him
encouragement for his second try against Jody Hamilton.
The match was booked for twenty minutes. The match ended in a draw. The Assassin headed toward the dressing room. It was a repeat
from the week before. Jerry leaped up on the second turnbuckle, motioning for the Assassin to return for an extra five minutes. Jerry held
his hand up, spread those fingers, and pointed to the invisible watch on his left wrist, begging the Assassin to return like he did the week
before, begging for that extra five minutes.
The bait was set, and Leon bit. As Leon leaned over the top rope and started to give the Assassin the familiar twenty-count, Jerry
descended from the second turnbuckle and slowly walked backwards, quietly leaving the ring, unbeknownst to the referee who had
gotten about a 15-16 count going at this time.
When the Assassin saw that Jerry left the ring, he turned for the dressing room and forgot about the count. The pigeon of a referee
motioned to the timekeeper to ring the bell. He turned to raise Jerry’s hand in victory, only to stand there in front of 2,000 people, who
also realized, that he had been had.
Jerry Oates had disappeared from the referee’s eyes. He looked like a fool unable to raise someone’s hand at his command.
When Leon came in the dressing room, I had all the boys applaud him. I’ve seen faces turn red, but Leon looked like he had spent
the weekend in Panama City on a sunny day. He got the message and left the dressing room.
Oh, the memories!
– Dick Steinborn
May 26, 2008
In the Georgia territory, Choo-Choo Lynn was a front man in Macon, Georgia, for Fred Ward. He ran a small office in downtown Macon
where tickets were sold. He arranged for the window cards to be put out, and made sure the ring was secure when wrestling came to
Macon. All the boys liked Choo-Choo. He was one of the boys who pioneered wrestling with his early appearances in the ring; a real nice
guy.
Ralph Freed and Leon Ogle were Fred Ward’s sons-in-law. The respect from the boys stopped at their doorstep.
Leon refereed all the matches in Columbus, Georgia. A lot of times he would change the endings on a whim because he thought it was
better his way. Remember, the Atlanta office had nothing to do with his refereeing, and Leon’s decisions were always backed up by
his father-in-law Fred.
Ralph handled the newspaper publicity, ran the office at the Sports Arena in Columbus, and worked the shows on Wednesday night. The
boys had nothing but trouble with this guy. He had a Napoleon attitude, standing five-foot seven inches.
When a suggestion from one dressing room was sent to the other by Ralph, the messenger, most of the time he couldn’t remember
what was needed in a particular match, and he, too, who never wrestled, would change the message with a simple, “Just small
package him.�
My father used to say if you took your Rolex watch to a watchmaker for repair, you trusted your watch would be repaired correctly. Then to
later find out when you left the store, the proprietor would walk out on the street and ask a passerby to come in and repair the watch. The
passerby in this case was Ralph being involved with the innermost workings of a wrestling match and its timing.
One night the Torres Brothers had it with Ralph, and when a demonstration of a two-hand chop to the chest while coming off the ropes
was explained to Ralph, both Torres brothers slammed their palms into Freed’s chest hard, showing disrespect for the messenger
who should have stayed in the office. Ralph fell backwards against the wall as the Torres brothers stared into Ralph’s eyes with
disrespect. The messenger got the message.
His brother-in-law Leon had run-ins with a few of the boys, including me, Assassin #2, El Mongol, and a few others.
When you worked for the ABC Booking office in Atlanta under the control of a super booker like Leo Garibaldi, the boys felt cheated when
they had to listen to Fred Ward’s two sons-in-law.
To hear the boys talk, it was always a problem when they worked Fred Ward’s towns.
When Ray Gunkel died, I jumped on the opportunity to promote in Columbus and did so for three years. Part of my motivation to promote
was due to the fact that I would finally be rid of the stench that we all had to smell, when appearing in Fred Ward’s towns. I may
sound bitter about the past in the southern Georgia area, but I didn’t stand alone.
Case in point: First, it is well known that Milo and Dick Steinborn loved the wrestling business. I was taught to watch every match, and
add to, or take away, what you saw when two guys put on a performance. The memories that you store in your brain can be given away to
those who are most deserving.
When I married “Miss Columbus� Janelle Oates, I was introduced to my two new brothers-in-laws, Ted, age 10, and Jerry, age 13
or 14. Of course, when my wife and I returned to Georgia occasionally, the boys had decided to take up amateur wrestling at my
encouragement. As they got older they got better, and then they wanted to turn pro, with the years of experience that I had gathered was
now funneled into these two talented athletes. No charge.
I settled in Florida to help my dad promote. Jerry, who was so adamant about going into the business, moved to Florida where he took a
menial job only to be on hand for personal training at a local YMCA two or three times a week. Then, the conversation about the
business, while making those Florida trips once or twice a week. Jerry was ready.
Everyone moved back to Columbus and Ted started his training.
I convinced the Atlanta office that Jerry was ready. I insisted that both boys referee their first appearance in the squared circle. As a
referee, they could see, here, smell, touch, and feel two guys performing a wrestling match. It’s like being inside an apple core.
I’m sure Bobby Simmons could write a whole book on the continuous conversations and anecdotes that he heard from superstars,
while Bobby was refereeing for the new Georgia office.
Jerry Oates was primed to adjust to what he was taught. The Assassin saw a potential star and was willing too help mold him to a
successful career as a pro.
Now my case in point: Jerry was to make his first appearance in his home town of Columbus. He was booked in a twenty-minute match
against Assassin #2. Many local fans came to see a hometown boy make good. The Assassin and I realized that our past experience
was like two buckets of talent, but only halfway full. Jerry was the empty bucket and he was about to start filling up that bucket.
I told Jerry before he went into the ring that the fifteen-minute draw match can only be highlighted if in the last 30-40 seconds he is
making his comeback and making the Assassin pay for his evil deeds. Jerry could dropkick well, two or three at a time.
I explained to Jerry that when the bell rings and the draw is declared, he should let the Assassin leave the ring. When the masked man
gets halfway to the dressing room, I told Jerry to jump up on the second turnbuckle and insist that his opponent return for an extra five
minutes.
It all worked well. Jerry was up on the turnbuckle asking the Assassin to come back, and the fans were cheering their heads off. Jerryâ
€™s schoolmates were thrilled to see how well Jerry had done.
Then it happened. The referee, Leon Ogle, decided on his own to ring the bell and start counting the Assassin out. Of course, Jody
returned to the ring, and for the next five minutes the two opponents couldn’t get what Leon nipped in the bud. It stunk, and boy was I
hot. Leon returned to the dressing room with an ego that he was going to lay on all of us.
In front of all the boys I said to this man, “What right did you have to take it upon yourself to add five minutes on your own to a fifteen-
minute match?� His answer to me was, “That’ll teach you guys that I am in charge in the ring�. Wow! I was looking to be
fired, and I didn’t care.
The Assassin was selling out in Augusta, Georgia, week after week, and the Atlanta was satisfied with my work on the northern end. Fred
Ward never said a word about me questioning his son-in-law in front of all the boys, who knew I was right.
Now it was my turn. I got with Jody in Augusta when we worked out this plan to stick it to Leon.
Fred Ward had booked Jerry and the Assassin in a return Columbus match the following Wednesday. This time it was a twenty-minute
match. I got with Jerry and laid out the plan. I had visualized this ending in my mind, and relied on the two principle players to complete
the deed.
Wednesday night arrived and Jerry stepped through the ropes with a little more experience under his belt, while the fans gave him
encouragement for his second try against Jody Hamilton.
The match was booked for twenty minutes. The match ended in a draw. The Assassin headed toward the dressing room. It was a repeat
from the week before. Jerry leaped up on the second turnbuckle, motioning for the Assassin to return for an extra five minutes. Jerry held
his hand up, spread those fingers, and pointed to the invisible watch on his left wrist, begging the Assassin to return like he did the week
before, begging for that extra five minutes.
The bait was set, and Leon bit. As Leon leaned over the top rope and started to give the Assassin the familiar twenty-count, Jerry
descended from the second turnbuckle and slowly walked backwards, quietly leaving the ring, unbeknownst to the referee who had
gotten about a 15-16 count going at this time.
When the Assassin saw that Jerry left the ring, he turned for the dressing room and forgot about the count. The pigeon of a referee
motioned to the timekeeper to ring the bell. He turned to raise Jerry’s hand in victory, only to stand there in front of 2,000 people, who
also realized, that he had been had.
Jerry Oates had disappeared from the referee’s eyes. He looked like a fool unable to raise someone’s hand at his command.
When Leon came in the dressing room, I had all the boys applaud him. I’ve seen faces turn red, but Leon looked like he had spent
the weekend in Panama City on a sunny day. He got the message and left the dressing room.
Oh, the memories!
