New Wrestling Federation Has Familiar Ring to It

The Getty Center has opened to oohs and ahs. A Van Gogh exhibit is coming to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

And with Golden Globe already in hand, Burt Reynolds seems headed for an Oscar for his portrayal of a San Fernando Valley porn auteur.

Yes, everywhere we turn in Los Angeles there are signs that culture is thriving. And people willing to travel down to the Echo Park Boys & Girls Club next weekend may witness another step forward for the performing arts.

Oh wait. I’m sorry. It happened last Saturday, and darn, but I missed the “No DQ, No Countout, Bunkhouse Brawl, Ladder Match” of Southern California Championship Wrestling (SCCW), an upstart federation of Hulk Hogan wannabes.

Even so, just reading the press release is a thrill: four wrestlers, every man for himself, battling to see who could climb the ladder and claim the $1,000 check suspended above the ring. And what a lineup: the Samoan Kid! Nick Beat! Kaos 1! And don’t forget White Trash Johnny Webb!

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Never heard of them? Me neither. The guys on TV do it for big money. But what’s in it for these guys?

Maybe the appeal isn’t that strange. Maybe they are manly men, driven by the primal desire to prove their physical superiority--even if it is, well, mostly for show. Most of us who were weaned on TV images of drop kicks, pile drivers and figure-4 leg locks have outgrown all of this. But a few of us, it seems, want to live the dream, such as it is.

I’ve written before about the Valley’s subculture of minor league wrestling. Not long ago, Verne Langdon was the unquestioned godfather. When I asked him his age, he would only say he was “younger than God,” and admitted to having wrestled at the Olympic Auditorium when Dick Lane was saying “Whoa, Nellie!” and Johnny “Red Shoes” Dugan was the ref. There’s a good chance I saw him on TV back then, because I can still recite from memory the phone number to call the Olympic for tickets: “Call Richmond 9-5171! That’s RI 9-5171! And remember: No TV!”

I never made it to the Olympic. But a few years ago I made it to a small, strange arena inside an industrial building tucked deep amid the auto salvage yards of the East Valley that are the roots of SCCW.

Now closed, this building was the home of Langdon’s Slammers Wrestling Federation, his wrestling school (“Slam University”) and his little pro wrestling museum, featuring artifacts that once belonged to the legendary Gorgeous George and others. And it was here that I witnessed a wrestler who called himself Dynamite D react to a teenage heckler at ringside by leaning over the rope, covering one nostril and spraying snot on his critic. The crowd loved it.

“It’s his favorite move,” the fan, Kevin Kleinrock, told me later.

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Over the years I would learn that Kleinrock was more than a fan. He encouraged the Slammers to stage regular shows inside the gym of the Sherman Oaks Center for Enriched Studies, where he was then a student. Young Kleinrock would later enroll at UCLA and yet still pursue his dream of becoming a big-time wrestling promoter. Once I even got a letter from his mother proudly updating me on his burgeoning career.

Recently Kleinrock, as “vice president of operations” for SCCW, shared with me some insights via e-mail into the dark political intrigue and bad blood of minor league wrestling:

“The Slammer Wrestling Federation had burned its bridges with many of its wrestlers and former employees. One wrestler in particular was Dynamite D (yes, the same Dynamite D who so many years ago blew his nose on me).”

Inspired by the New World Order, an outgrowth of TV’s World Championship Wrestling, Dynamite D started the Dynamite World Order, Kleinrock says.

Dynamite D’s real name is Darren McMillan. He showed up at the Sherman Oaks center one night and climbed into the ring to make an unannounced speech.

“All he really wanted was for Verne to rehire him and to get back into the ring,” Kleinrock explained. “D had the support of a dozen or so other wrestlers who joined him in the ring in making his announcement.”

Many fans, Kleinrock suggested, thought all this was just part of the show. But it wasn’t, he says, and only a few hours later, Verne stunned the wrestlers by announcing that he was shutting Slammers down.

“No one expected this,” Kleinrock said. “Left without a home or promotion, the wrestlers banded together. Darren (Dynamite D) retired from the ring and I returned to wrestling, this time to the front office. Out of the ashes of the Slammers Wrestling Federation came Southern California Championship Wrestling . . .

“Slammers was great. It is where I got my start, Dynamite D got his start and nearly all of the SCCW wrestlers got their start. But times change, and wrestlers evolve.”

So that’s the story, at least according to Kleinrock, who says that SCCW is now planning to take its show on the road to Orange County, featuring such rivalries as “The Misfit” Scar Stevens versus Iceman Joe Bowman, “Skullcrusher” J.J. Floyd versus “Lone Wolf” Brian McCoy and, of course, Kaos 1 versus White Trash Johnny Webb.

But I suspect that this isn’t the whole story. Verne Langdon, the old “Head Slammer,” must have his own perspective of what happened.

The Head Slammer isn’t so young, but only three years ago he was still a force in the ring. I remember how he whacked Movie Star Mike around with a metal folding chair--and Mike deserved every whack.

I’m comforted by the thought that maybe, just maybe, Verne is planning a little payback for Darren McMillan, leader of the Slammers revolt and now owner of the SCCW. Dynamite D now announces the play-by-play, but a press release hints he may return to the ring.

So maybe the Head Slammer and Dynamite D could settle this score. Now, that’s a match I’d like to see, and I know just the place. The Getty Center wants to prove it belongs to all of Los Angeles, right?

But I wouldn’t sit at ringside. And I wouldn’t do any heckling.

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Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to him at The Times’ Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St. , Chatsworth 91311, or via e-mail at scott.harris@latimes.com Please include a phone number.