THE LAST VAUDEVILLIANS

 If you don’t follow the world of professional wrestling, you’re denying yourself a third-row-center seat to society’s id. That which we regard as virtue and vice is distilled and displayed in the ring. Babyfaces (the “good guys”) feud with heels (the “bad guys”), and each competitor tries to win by whatever means elicit the largest pop from the audience, whether it be a 630º-somersault off the top rope or a well-timed raise of the eyebrow.

Professional wrestling is thought to have spawned in the primordial soup of vaudeville, the circuits of touring live performers and variety shows that were popular in the early Twentieth Century prior to the mainstream consumption of radio, cinema, and television. While its definitive history is uncertain, pro wrestling may have emerged from the “strongman” prize-fights in which a traveling brute would accept challenges from any attendee brave enough to trade fisticuffs with him. Over time, those putting on the show started calling on trained performers planted in the audience, and a spectacular choreographed fight would ensue.

Today, the multibillion-dollar wrasslin’ business still incorporates the hallmarks of vaudeville – acrobatics, monologues, music, dancing, and comedy. Every so often, the sport (or quasi-sport) launches a superstar who transcends the ring and enters the realm of mainstream celebrity – think Dwayne Johnson, John Cena, the Bella Twins, and Dave Bautista.

But for every Dwayne Johnson, there are a thousand wrestlers scratching and surviving on the independent scene. Far away from the lights, arenas, and TV deals of World Wrestling Entertainment and All Elite Wrestling, these athletes square off in whatever space is available – Elks lodges, high school gyms, VFW halls – to make a name for themselves. Some performers are moonlighting hobbyists. Others are hardened lifers who travel and perform 240+ nights per year. Each one of them displays an exceptional creativity and commitment to their craft.