Through The Shattered Glass

by Jeanie Clarke

  When we met for the first time, Chris was training to be an architect whilst doing a variety of odd jobs including selling toys in a market and working for the Yellow Pages. Wrestling was really a hobby for him. He first got hooked on it when he was invited to a show by Tony ‘Banger’ Walsh who had trained in the same gym as Chris in Leamington Spa.

  Chris was completely blown away by his first event, particularly by the athleticism of a young wrestler named ‘The Dynamite Kid’ Tom Billington. Back then, Tommy was performing all the high-flying and high-impact moves which would solidify him as one of the all-time greats. His flashy style made him a rarity on the British wrestling scene, which was mostly centred on mat-based grappling.

  After seeing Dynamite in action, Chris wanted to enter the ring to emulate his new hero and asked if he could meet the local promoter.

  The promoter was aware of Chris’ athletic background and asked if he would like to try wrestling. He was excited to give it a go and was given the nickname ‘Blackbelt’ Chris Adams, in recognition of his judo ranking. Unusually, he wasn’t really given any pro wrestling training before starting on shows and instead relied on his judo repertoire to back up his martial artist moniker.

  At first, he was put into tag matches with Big Daddy, a huge behemoth of a man who was British wrestling’s most popular hero. Unfortunately, Daddy was so overweight he found it difficult to work a full-length match. I would soon discover that promoters would hide this shortcoming by booking him in tag team contests to give his massive frame some respite.

  By having a small and agile tag partner who was first into the ring allowed the match to be padded out. Usually the smaller man would fall prey to the villains’ cheating as the crowd started chanting for Daddy to come into the fray and clean house. Moments of absorbing punishment would pass before the smaller athlete would finally make the hot tag to the huge man from Halifax, who would then deliver a short beating, and score the all-important pinfall.

  On the outside, Daddy looked like the hero. He received all the cheers but would barely have to break a sweat. For most new wrestlers, this was their rite of passage before being allowed to go into individual matches. Stars such as The Dynamite Kid, Davey Boy Smith and Steve Regal all started like this before being established as legitimate headliners in their own right. Chris took to it like a duck to water.

  Whenever he put his mind to a task he just became a natural at it. Nothing seemed to faze him.

  Marty Jones, former wrestler: “The first time I met Chris Adams, we hit it off straight way with both of us having a sporting background, Chris with his judo and myself with amateur wrestling, both being champions in those respective sports and both breaking into professional wrestling at the same time. Other than his natural ability in the ring, the thing that always stands out about Chris is how smart he was in his appearance, especially his ring attire. I think often he felt in the shadow of his brother Neil’s success in judo and this spurred him on to be the very best. He certainly made his mark very rapidly in wrestling, which is something not many judo practitioners have done.”

  Chris was also a very complex individual too, a complete enigma at times and one who had many different facets to his personality. He was charismatic, intelligent and highly talented, but most of all, I found him to be a caring and kind individual.

  Mal Sanders, former wrestler: “I liked Chris Adams very much; he was a good friend of mine. Whenever we saw each other in the dressing room we would go up and give each other a big cuddle and would chat between our matches. I was a big fan of his too because of his style. He wanted to emulate his older brother Neil, who was an Olympic silver medallist, and be a big success, which really we all wanted to be, and Chris did become a success. He was just a nice lad and he was always the same, always happy. Whenever you saw him he had a smile on his face, and it’s his smile I remember most about him and how he would always be laughing and mucking about. It was always lovely to see him.”

  I was really taken by this tall, dark-haired and handsome man. He had the cutest dimples when he smiled. We didn’t talk for long as Marion and I were ready to leave, and he needed to get away and meet up with the guys with whom he was sharing a car.

  Before he left, he asked for my phone number.

  I must admit although I thought he was gorgeous when I first met him, resembling a young version Paul McCartney from The Beatles, I was slightly hesitant to fall for him. I figured that asking a local girl for her details would be a regular occurrence for these guys. Turn up at a town, wrestle, meet a few girls, flirt, hopefully get a date – and repeat. And the next time they were back in town they knew they would have some female company waiting for them; a sailor-with-a-girl-in-every-port type of deal. I’d seen it all before at the concerts. Whenever I went to a particular group’s gigs there were always the same girls who were waiting around for the company of their idols.

  But I was still more than happy to hand over my number. To be honest, I never thought he would actually call anyway.

  Not long after our first grappling experience, Marion and I were keen to see some more events. In addition to the Cliff Pavilion show, we travelled to Catford in south London and Fairfield Halls in Croydon, just to witness the matches. With my busy life travelling to gigs and wrestling cards, my young mind became distracted from Mr Adams and his pledge to call me.

  The relationship I had with my mum hadn’t improved so I found that it was easier to avoid her. I was rarely at home; I would leave early to go to work and be back home late, when I knew she’d be in bed. Our flat was basically just somewhere that I got a few hours’ sleep and a change of clothes.

  One evening, I arrived home earlier than usual and was greeted by my mum, complaining about incessant phone calls from ‘that damn Chris guy’. He’d been driving her insane with the amount of calls he had been making to try and reach me. I had no idea that he would have been so persistent and it was a real compliment.

  To stop him being a nuisance to my mum, I promised I would ring him back, although deep down I was very flattered that he was making such an effort. Our meeting had been so fleeting that I was amazed that he had even remembered me.

  I returned his call and, after a bit of small talk, Chris asked if he could take me to the Birmingham Motor Show. This was a huge event in the UK. As well as all the car manufacturers showing off their latest models, there were all sorts of entertainment going on too. I’d never been before and it sounded like fun, so I told him I’d love to go.

  At the time, I couldn’t drive so I had to catch a couple of trains to his home town of Leamington Spa in the Midlands.

  As I sat there on the long journey watching the scenery change out of the window, I had the strangest of feelings. I was nervous and excited all at the same time. My stomach was doing somersaults as I had no idea what to expect and, after going all that way, I was just praying we would get along. The nearer I got to my destination, the more the apprehension started to build.

  As soon as the train pulled into the station I noticed Chris. In all honesty, it would’ve been hard to miss him. Standing there, he flashed his gorgeous smile and was dressed to the nines in a three-piece suit, completed by a smart tie and a pair of dress shoes.

  I walked towards him with my eyes wide open. Suddenly, I became very self-conscious of the casual t-shirt and jeans combination I was wearing. There I was thinking we were off to a rough and ready car show and he was dressed up like he was going for a day at the Ascot races!

  The first thing we did was go to his local pub and we chatted over a drink. I can remember almost everything about that date even now; the weather, the layout of the pub, what we were wearing and what we had to drink. It was a pint for him and a Babycham for me. This champagne-type drink was quite cosmopolitan back in the seventies and I wanted to appear more worldly-wise to Chris than I actually was.

  In truth, I‘ve never enjoyed drinking. The first few times I tried, it made me feel incredibly sick and I think seeing the effect
that it had on my mum was enough to put me off it. As we sat talking, with me politely sipping my drink and pretending to enjoy it, I could see that he was looking more and more stressed and it appeared that he wasn’t enjoying himself. I was worried I had said something to offend him.

  “Do you mind if I go home quickly and get changed? This suit is really uncomfortable!” he suddenly blurted.

  I just burst out laughing and so did Chris. He returned about twenty minutes later dressed in a more casual T-shirt and jeans. He may have made himself uncomfortable dressing in the suit but he was just so incredibly sweet taking the time and effort to make me feel special. And I must say – he looked just as handsome dressed down as he did in his suit.

  The time just flew by as Chris and I sat in the pub, we just talked and laughed like we’d known each other for years, he was so easy to get on with and we just clicked straight away. We had scampi and chips at the pub for lunch (everything from that day is etched in my memory) and then he said he’d love to introduce me to some of his friends.

  So we went off to meet a chap by the name of Steve Palmer and his girlfriend Isobelle. We listened to some music and just generally hung out, chatting and joking. In the evening, Chris took me to his favourite Chinese restaurant for a meal.

  It was just a perfect day. Before I knew it, we were back at the station in time for me to get the train home to Southend.

  Just before my train left, Chris asked me to come back the following weekend. He had a show, and he wanted me to come and see his match. There was no hesitation; I was thrilled.

  As the train pulled away from the station, I looked out of the window waving as long as I could until Chris faded from view.

  Sitting back in my seat, I suddenly realised that we never actually made it to the Birmingham Motor Show after all! I didn’t care though, inside I was starting to fall for this handsome wrestler, and I knew he liked me too.

  I was on cloud nine. The next weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

  4 WHEN SATURDAY COMES

  After the week had dragged on for what seemed like an eternity, Saturday finally arrived and I was off once more to meet up with Chris. We travelled to the venue and I sat in the front to eagerly watch his match. I can’t even remember who his opponent was that night, as quite frankly it didn’t matter. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Chris.

  Bearing in mind that we’d only met a couple of times it came as a bit of a surprise that on the next date he wanted to show me the flat that he owned in Warwick. He was so proud of the flat that he managed to buy he was almost excitable, like a little boy showing off his favourite toy.

  It was a spacious second storey, two-bedroom flat that Chris shared with a friend who rented the second room; a friendly and cheerful guy called Robbo. The first thing that struck me about the flat, considering that two males lived there, was how tidy it was.

  This was Chris all over, he was always fastidious. Everything always had to be in order and in its place. He was incessantly organised, almost to the point of being annoying, his office was perfectly filed and his shirts were always colour co-ordinated.

  Chris had a match that night and after we got back it was far too late to make the train back to Southend, so he asked me to stay for the rest of the weekend. Looking back now I think it was then I first fell in love with Chris Adams.

  We had the most perfect weekend. He took me to Warwick Castle and showed me where he played as a child, we walked hand-in-hand for miles, talking and laughing, our hands almost glued together neither of us wanting to let go of the other.

  Before I caught my train home, he took me to Stratford-upon-Avon. There, we browsed the shops and wandered aimlessly, just content in each other’s company.

  When I arrived home my Mum didn’t even ask where I’d been for the last few days. I sat in my room in our tiny council house replaying over and over in my mind our perfect weekend. Although I was physically in Southend, my heart was in the Midlands.

  Marion soon called wanting to hear all the gossip from my sojourn, and also to invite me to some more wrestling shows. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the news; Chris had just asked me to move in with him before he left. I was flabbergasted.

  After just two dates, it seemed to be too soon, but there wasn’t a minute of the day I wasn’t thinking of him and also how happy I was when I was there, compared to being in Essex. Chris would ask me whenever we spoke on the phone if I had made a decision, but I just couldn’t help thinking we were rushing in too quickly. I decided to compromise and said I would come and stay for a week and see how well we got on living together.

  A few days later, I was back on the train, this time with a suitcase packed for the week. As soon as I arrived, he sprang a surprise on me; we were going to meet his parents. Living together and meeting his parents, Chris didn’t do things by half. But this was another thing about him that I soon learnt, Chris didn’t have time to sit about, he was all about actions, not just words. When he set his mind to something, he went for it and didn’t back down at all. It was this attitude that he knew would take him far in the wrestling industry whilst many of his peers floundered.

  I was nervous as hell that day, but as soon as we walked into his parent’s house, I started to relax. His mum, Jean, immediately made me feel at ease. She was always so kind and loving towards me and even from that first meeting she gave me a feeling that I belonged. His dad Cyril was very laid back and extremely funny, he had us all laughing in no time and any apprehension I had about the meeting soon disappeared. We were joined by Chris’ brother Neil and we hit it off straight away as we were the same age. For a guy who was seriously tough, Neil was also incredibly sweet. Despite their competitive natures when it came to sporting achievement, the brothers were very close and I could see how much Chris loved his younger sibling. In fact I could feel the affection that they all had towards each other – at long last I felt I had finally found the family for which I had so longed. Years later, Jean would kid me about that first meeting as when I was asked where I came from I pronounced my hometown in the broadest Essex accent and it came out “Sarfend” – and they were unsure of exactly where I meant!

  The week came and went and I decided to stay around, we were so happy together that we didn’t want to be miles apart for any length of time. I started to accompany Chris at all of his wrestling matches around the country and I quickly became good friends with the rest of the wrestling crew.

  Chris worked for Joint Promotions, which was the UK’s premier wrestling operation. Joint Promotions was a syndicate of local promoters, who had an agreement to share talent and resources as necessary, effectively creating a monopoly in the industry. Joint also had national television on ITV as part of its World of Sport weekly programming each Saturday afternoon, and so every British worker wanted to be on their books to get that much sought after exposure.

  By the late seventies, Joint Promotions was headed up by promoter Max Crabtree, whose brother Shirley wrestled as Big Daddy. I soon realised that this was the reason Daddy was so protected in his matches, as it was rumoured that Max felt he could only trust a family member to lead the bills of his shows, and an injury would be devastating to a card built around the name of his top drawing star. But slowly, it started to seem that the burly champion of the people was now becoming weary and tired. He was being booked to compete almost every night, as Max tried to capitalise on the demands of Daddy’s adoring fans. Nevertheless, wrestling was so popular that, as well as the TV tapings, there were dozens of shows all over the UK every month, and so many of the boys used it as their primary source of income. It was a glorious time for the wrestling industry in the United Kingdom.

  Chris had already packed-in his other work commitments to make a full-time job of wrestling. He was being heavily featured on cards all across the country, and was starting to regularly appear on TV since his World of Sport debut in July 1978. This increased workload meant a lot more travelling and so, to stop us from being apart for any g
reat periods of time, I offered to do the circuit with him. To keep the travelling more cost effective, we would car-share with a bunch of boys also from the West Midlands. Usually, we were accompanied by Tony ‘Banger’ Walsh, Jackie Turpin and Les Hudspith (who wrestled under the name Ringo Rigby).

  I have fond memories of these days with the banter and camaraderie that went on between us all. We travelled all over the UK. Chris worked frequent circuits in Southampton, Porthcawl, Skegness, Yarmouth and all points in between, driving a good couple of hundred miles between each show.

  One thing that made Chris stand out from the others was his handsome appearance. That’s not a knock on the other wrestlers, but at that time the business wasn’t about being body-beautiful. The real focus of the sport was centred on competence in the ring. Many of the British wrestlers came from the shoot style of catch-as-catch-can amateur wrestling and were visibly rough and tough guys with lumps and bumps all over them. They each had an aura of hard-man credibility and were taught a deep respect for the business in order to enter it. It was deeply ingrained into their professional code that they must protect the image of the sport at all costs, especially from any member of the public who might decide to try and challenge one of the TV wrestlers to a fight.

  Before long, Chris was beginning to attract a large female following and, to capitalise; we set up the ‘Chris Adams Fan Club’ which I ran from the flat. For £2.00 (about $3.50), members would receive a welcome letter from Chris, a personally signed 8”x10” promotional photograph, and other perks which I’ve long since forgotten.

  Like many managers of attractive male music stars, I knew that the secret to getting Chris’ adoring fans into the halls to watch the shows and join the Fan Club was to make their star look available.