Holiday Camps
Most people’s image of live professional wrestling follows a basic format: a promoter puts on an event before a ticket-buying audience in a conventional sports or entertainment venue, be it football stadium or village hall. But from carnivals to weddings there’s a whole other side to the grappling game where wrestlers perform before a non-traditional audience, in an unconventional setting, or both. And that change of circumstances can bring some unique benefits and challenges to an audience.
None more so than on the holiday camp circuit. Perhaps unique among international holidaymaking culture, Britain’s holiday camps bring to mind a host of cliches, many of them rooted firmly in truth: chalet accommodation, all-inclusive entertainment, seaside locations and knobbly knees contests. But according to All Star Wrestling promoter Brian Dixon, these humble surroundings also play host to “the best wrestling training ground in the world.”
Chains such as Butlins, Pontins and Haven have for decades included wrestling events alongside other forms of entertainment such as childrens shows, live music and tribute acts. In the early years this was mainly provided by Joint Promotions, the alliance of promoters that ran regular events in major towns across the country and was responsible for the televised wrestling broadcasts on ITV, most notably via World of Sport.
By the 1970s, camps began experimenting with alternative suppliers, leading to some former grapplers-turned-promoters to begin concentrating on the camp circuit as a key part of their business. Men such as Robbie Hagen and Brian Manelli, who both passed away in recent years, were able to benefit from the security that comes with both a guaranteed contract for the entire holiday season and the fixed fee their services earned, without the unpredictability involved in attracting a paying crowd and then attempting to put on a show that left them feeling satisfied yet still eager to return – with wallets open — to a future date.
Another man taking advantage of the camp scene was Brian Dixon, who remains active nearly four decades later and is firmly established as Britain’s leading promoter. Under the banner of All-Star Wrestling he continues to promote a mix of a few semi-regular venues (Croydon’s Fairfield Halls and Stoke’s Victoria Hall the most notable) and one-off dates in venues such as theatres. But as “SuperSlam Wrestling” he supplies the Butlins venues at Bognor Regis, Minehead and Skegness and is hopeful of taking over contracts at Haven for the first time in 2011.
While the SuperSlam shows are a little more elaborate than some of those in the past where a four-man, two-match show was often judged sufficient, Dixon still puts together a slimmed down version of his main arena shows. Running around 90 minutes with an interval, his usual format is three matches before a grand finale of either an elimination match or a battle royale. He explains that the shortened format is partly to fit in with the camp schedule (a wrestling show will often be one of numerous shows in the same venue during the day), but partly because a holiday-making audience has an inherently shorter attention span than one which has intentionally made the effort to leave the house for a local wrestling show.
With that audience in mind, there’s a distinct style to camp shows, which Dixon describes as “entertainment first, wrestling second.” There’s usually much more of an emphasis on exaggerated hero and villain status, crowd interaction and comedy. It’s a style that’s not to the taste of many dedicated wrestling fans, but one that almost every wrestler and promoter involved agrees can prove an educational experience. Dixon gives the example of Robbie Dynamite as somebody who even in his early years was a polished in-ring performer but struggled to connect with a large audience: “After a summer on the camps, that had become second nature.”
It’s not just the relaxed and positive nature of the holiday-making audience that helps, but also the sheer size. Outside of Mexico, the holiday camps are one of the few places where wrestlers can consistently perform before crowds that can run into four figures, a valuable stepping stone between the small halls of independent promotions and the giant arenas of WWE.
For Colt Cabana, working a summer on the camps was “a turning point in my career.” He explains that “There’s zero pressure for the wrestlers in front of casual fans. Before wrestling at the holiday camps, I had been wrestling in the very high-pressured promotion of ROH and continue to this day. The idea of not having that pressure is very relaxing for a performer. So much, I think the holiday camps helped mold my fun-loving style of wrestling that I feel I’ve perfected to this date. It allowed me to be real loose and jovial while performing. I learned to really enjoy myself while wrestling.”
In addition to Cabana, the camp circuit has provided regular employment for several other US grapplers better known in the wrestling community for their involvement in the American independent scene and even later WWE stints. This has led to several reports of incidents that, while tough to verify, suggest even the hardcore wrestling fan might stumble across the in-ring equivalent of a rare B-side while on a camp break.
There was an account of Chris Hero wrestling American Dragon (now Daniel Bryan) in what at the time would have been an US indy dream match. Another contest reportedly saw Hero playing the role of a patriotic Brit against the American aggressor of Paul Birchall, a switch presumably based on their respective appearances, and one that was apparently undermined only when the pair began an exchange of views on the microphone. And in one from the “so good, who cares if it’s true” file, Dragon (who at the time was sporting an epic goatee) promised to shave off the beard if he lost, went back on his word, and ended the show being chased around the camp by a scissor-wielding Redcoat and an army of children.
Indeed, camp staff regularly play a role in the shows themselves. The role of ring announcer and even referee can be performed by staff to help cut down the size of the travelling crew: comedian Joe Pasquale once worked as a referee among other tasks at a holiday camp. And perhaps most notably the camp’s compere will often provide something of a running commentary, a role designed to help get the story of the match across to those in the audience not familiar with wrestling, which can be off-putting for some of the more dedicated wrestling fans.
Dixon points out that camp comperes can also benefit the performers themselves. Firstly, his or her ad-libbed take on the in-ring action can serve as an warning sign if the wrestlers are attempting to tell a story with their moves that isn’t coming across as clearly as intended. Secondly, before the show even starts, the visiting wrestlers will often talk with the compere about his experiences that week with other entertainment shows to get a reading on the specific crowd that is on hand. If children’s comedians have proven particularly popular earlier in the day, the wrestlers might up the slapstick, while if the audience has reacted to other performers with a more subdued or cynical attitude, it might be worthwhile to bring forward the more spectacular wrestling manoeuvres to capture their interest.
One role that isn’t performed by camp staff, however, is the assembly and disassembly of the wrestling ring, a task that is instead the responsibility — and almost a rite of passage — for the wrestlers on the tour. Spinner McKenzie, a former tag partner of Big Daddy who more recently helped train Drew McIntyre, once shared the story of his first camp tour in which he was charged with holding onto a bag of tools including a spanner and chastised if he even thought about letting them out of his sight for an instant. Initially disgruntled that he was given such a seemingly lowly role, McKenzie eventually came to realise it was an intentional learning experience: without the spanner, the ring could not be assembled and there would be no show, the lesson being that even the biggest in-ring star was reliant on the efforts of others.
It’s no surprise that such rituals develop on the road: while Dixon points out that compared with the WWE international schedule the camp circuit “is a doddle”, the pace of daily shows and lengthy drives certainly isn’t to everyone’s taste. Chad “Metal Machine” Collyer, who otherwise enjoyed the wrestling experience, noted that being in a car for six to eight hours almost every day did little to help his already battered knees, while the combination of a tight budget and few cooking facilities meant he survived largely on a diet of water, oranges and tuna.
Cabana observes that “It’s always interesting to discuss the holiday camps with other wrestlers who have done them. The responses are usually all the way positive or negative. It’s usually nowhere in the middle.” But for him the positive came from the simple fact that he was able to wrestle every day, rather than being restricted to working weekends for US promotions: by the end of the season, “I had a confidence about myself in the ring that I hadn’t had before.”
World Association of Wrestling chief Ricky Knight acknowledges that “Overseas guys struggle because they are not used to working most days, [putting the] ring up and down as well. If guys survive the camp circuit you know they love the job, as it’s very hard with little reward.” He certainly speaks from experience: while the current Butlin’s schedule involves a six-day loop visiting each camp twice a week, in the past it wasn’t uncommon for in-demand grapplers to work multiple camps on the same day, taking advantage of the fact that camp wrestling isn’t restricted to the traditional mid-evening slot. Throw in the fact that on some shows wrestlers would make multiple appearances, and Knight recalls his personal record as being a staggering 11 matches in one day.
Of course, there can be some fringe benefits for those grapplers who stay in the camps overnight and garner a very temporary form of celebrity status, particularly for those blessed with athletic physiques to display before a hormonal audience. While such dalliances are often perhaps best described as spot show rather than weekly venue, they can have longer-lasting effects for both the individual and the wrestling business, as happened with Knight.
At one Pontins show in Hemsby he met an 18-year-old named Julia Smith: not only did the pair begin a relationship, but Smith joined Knight on the road, eventually moving in front of the curtain at a camp show in Camber Sands where she debuted as his cornerwoman, Sweet Saraya. So successful was her appearance, she later trained for an in-ring debut and is now arguably Britain’s leading female grappler.
The pair returned to Hemsby in 2006 with two teenage children. But this was no family vacation. Daughter Britani formed one half of a tag team that defeated Saraya in a handicap match, while son Zak defeated his father to win the Pontins Open Title.
(Note: I later wrote a more extensive history of the holiday camp circuit which appears in my book Have A Good Week… Till Next Week)
Sold Shows
For those promoters that succeed on the holiday circuit, the next step is often to expand beyond the camp gates to the wider market for sold shows: those where the event is provided for a fixed fee rather than the wrestling promoter booking the venue and selling tickets. One example is Best of British Wrestling which supplies shows to Haven as well as for private entertainment events such as sports association dinners and corporate parties. For a fee listed as between £500 and £795, clients can book a show to fit their audience: for a family setting, BOBW will run a US-style format, while for older audiences they will not only adopt the traditional 2/3 falls, rounds style, but even book former World of Sport grapplers such as Mal Sanders, Johnny Saint, Johnny Kidd and Steve Grey, whose style has proven particularly suited to continuing performing at a more advanced age.
According to Brian Dixon, wrestling holds a particular appeal to those booking such events because it is so versatile. “With a boxing event [for a casual audience], every match is the same: two guys knocking each other about. With wrestling there’s so many different things we can do: as well as a straight match, we can have the ladies, do a novelty tag match [with a comedy wrestler or a midget], then have two American giants.”
Perhaps the most unlikely setting for a sold show was chosen by fans Doug and Emma Spiller, who surprised friends and family at their wedding reception with a wrestling event. When the venue’s ceiling proved too low for an ordinary ring, the pair tracked down a special ring with a low platform from camp promoter Brian Minelli. And while the event was originally planned to simply feature local grappler Edd Ferris (a university friend of the couple) and some of his trainees, a cheeky MySpace request to a wrestler with a suitable gap in his international schedule led to a surprise even for those guests who were wrestling fans and had got wind of the reception entertainment: Ferris’s opponent in the “main event” (which can be seen online at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qc_fr7etoIM) was none other than Doug Williams.
United States
While the US may not have an equivalent to Butlins or Pontins, it does have a tradition of wrestling in unusual settings before crowds where wrestling fans are in a minority. The most common example is the county fair, a local event that goes beyond coconut shies and rollercoasters to encompass everything from livestock events to eating contests and the occasional freak show. Wrestling events here often prove a chance for grapplers to have a night off from a hard impact style and instead concentrate on comedy routines and enhanced crowd interaction, often on a one-to-one basis.
Another unorthodox setting is wrestling in nightclubs and theatres such as the Lucha VaVoom promotion for which Colt Cabana occasionally works, and where the audience’s almost ironic enjoyment of the show can make for an enthusiastic response. “It’s almost presented as a Broadway show or a theatre show. Whenever I wrestle for Lucha VaVoom I always think back to my days on the Butlins Camps. It’s interesting because Lucha VaVoom has the highest ticket prices of any promotion I wrestle for, but there’s little to any pressure as a wrestler on the show. The show itself is promoted for “hipsters” and “scenesters” who cheer enthusiastically for basic hip-tosses and arm-drags.”
Even WWE has promoted in some unusual venues, including a circus-style big top. Since at least 1992, the company has run annual shows in the South Shore Music Circus and Cape Cody Melody Tent, which are both 60-year-old non-profit venues that book a range of music and entertainment events during the summer. With the venues holding a little over 2,000 people, the shows are more a tradition than a serious money-making prospect for WWE, which has historically sent its B show line-ups. Kane vs the Big Show in 1999 was a typical main event of the era, while in recent years the offering has been a scaled down version of the Smackdown roster, with Dolph Ziggler vs Drew McIntyre vs Matt Hardy vs Kofi Kingston the headline bout last year. In line with the small venue, all seats are priced the same: for last year’s events the charge was $33, which compares with a $70/$50/$25 structure for ordinary house shows.
And believe it or not, WWE has even run several shows at the Butlins camp in Minehead since 2006, making it perhaps the only venue it shares with All Star Wrestling. The shows have been held as part of WWE’s UK tours and feature the full Raw or Smackdown line-ups. But these aren’t part of the free entertainment for holidaymakers: instead they feature as the central attraction of premium-priced weekend packages that give customers a long weekend’s accommodation plus tickets to a show in the venue’s main arena for around £150.
Japan
Japan does not host wrestling in British style holiday camps. But it has hosted wrestling on a campsite.
Confused? Well, with numerous smaller wrestling promotions in Japan struggling to compete with the more established New Japan, All Japan and NOAH, differentiation is the name of the game. In most cases that involves emphasising a particular style such as extreme violence, comedy or more legitimate looking “shoot-style” bouts.
But sometimes it involves filming shows in eyecatching venues. Witness DDT, a promotion that had already gathered attention for its less orthodox characters, including having a hardcore title held at various stages by a dog, a ladder, the winner of an eBay auction and — in a rapid fire series of title changes — the constituent parts of a plate of curry.
The group has held several shows at a remote campsite of the tents rather than chalet variety. Native grapplers and ROH’s Kenny Omega unleashed a bizarre range of offense including firing flare guns, shoving creepy crawlies in the nostrils, and unleashing a powerbomb into a lake.
This followed in the footsteps of an infamous 1987 clash between New Japan’s Antonio Inoki and Masa Saito which took place on a deserted island and lasted for more than two hours. The water connection continued in 1994 when Atushi Onita’s FMW promotion ran a six-man tag in ring that was not only surrounded by barbed wire and explosives, but was suspended above the centre of a swimming pool, with elimination by pinfall, submission or splashdown.
Arguably the king of the wacky venue, however, is the hardcore-based Big Japan promotion, which has not only staged wild brawls in both a grocery store and a shopping mall, but even built a full-sized replica house inside Tokyo’s Korakuen Hall to run a card featuring a “scramble bunkhouse kitchen death match”, a “single-room toilet chain death match” and a “second floor violence death match.”
