It’s with mixed emotions that I recall my working relationship with the late Ron Dupree ... mixed because I had the greatest respect and admiration possible for the man, but unhappily I never had the opportunity to really sit down and find out about the real Ron Dupree.
Ron’s work reminded me of a cross between Terry Funk and Johnny Valentine. When he took a punch, he went down but came right back up ready to take another bump. When he threw a punch, you could hear it in the last row of the bleacher section no matter how much noise was present.
What I knew about him included that he had started in the Boston area in the early 1950’s, perhaps as Golden Boy Dupree, although he may have worked under different names until he developed his own particular style.
In 1954, he was driving a car that struck and killed a young pedestrian, and Ron had his driver’s license lifted for life. Until the day he died, he never got behind the steering wheel of a car and continually paid trans to other boys, having to hitch a ride to every show he worked.
In the mid sixties, he approached the Sheik in Detroit and sold him on the idea of creating a team called the California Hell’s Angels. He teamed with Chris Colt, and together, the two of them became the Sheik’s primary attraction, selling out the Cobo on numerous occasions.
They became so hot, that during their run, the actual rep of the California Hell’s Angels threatened to "disassociate" their existance in life if they continued to use the name, but Ron and Chris (or so the story goes), ventured to San Francisco and actually introduced themselves to the Real McCoy. Ron and Chris lived their gimmick outside the ring, and their way of life, their philosophy of life, personal thoughts, and language were so close in resemblance to a "real" biker that the Hell’s Angels actually befriended them and allowed them to continue to use the name, as long as they dropped "California" and just went as the Hell’s Angels (after all, Colt was from Drain, Oregon, and Dupree was from Boston.)
Ron and Chris worked together off and on during the next few years, appearing throughout Eastern Canada, then Arizona, and finally Washington State.
Was Ron respected by his peers? Absolutely. Wrestler/manager/referee Johnny Mann took the name Johnny Dupree. Bobby Jaggers broke into the business as Bobby Dupree. Chris Colt was at one time Chris Dupree. But I think the highest tribute he ever received was one he never lived to see . . . it happened on the night of his death.
Ron and Chris were on top in the Northwest. It was a promoter’s dream ... just put two baby faces in the main event against them and you were almost guaranteed a sell out. I remember standing near ringside one night in Spokane when Ron came out for his match. When the ring announcer called his name, I heard the fan turn to his buddy and say "... now you’re gonna see some real wrestling."
Unfortunately, tragedy struck while they were on top. Ron fainted one night in Seattle and we took him to the hospital. The medical report was as bleak as they come. Without a heart transplant, he had a 50-50 chance of living six more months. Of course his days as a professional wrestler completely ended and I asked him what he wanted to do. Wrestling was all he knew and loved, so after his release from the hospital, he was kept on the payroll and became a ring announcer.
And then the last night of his life arrived. We were in Tacoma and it was time for the first match. The house was packed to the rafters and all the boys had their adrenalin flowing because they knew their pay-off for that night would be exceptional.
The first match was Ripper Collins against Paddy Ryan (Earl Freeman). Ron Dupree climbed in the ring and introduced the contestants. (We had turned him baby face after Chris Colt said he was bringing in a new partner to replace Dupree, who had turned soft and was a disgrace to the Hell’s Angels). Ron climbed out of the ring, fell to the floor and was pronounced dead minutes later by medics. We were later told it had been a massive heart attack.
In a "believe it or not" coincidence, Ron’s very first match back in 1952 had been against Roy Lee Collins. In 1974, the last words he ever uttered were the ring introduction of Ripper Collins.
We were all downstairs in the dressing room, sitting silently, waiting for the medical report, although Ryan and Collins both said it didn’t look good. About 20 minutes later, the attending doctor entered the room to tell us what we already knew. Ron Dupree was dead. We all sat there again in silence for what seemed like an hour until I realized where we were.
"I think we should cancel the show tonight ..." Before I was able to finish the thought, every wrestler in the room piped in and agreed immediately. "Yes." "Absolutely." "Definitely." I don’t know who said what, but all twelve wrestlers unanimously agreed that out of respect for Ron Dupree they would give up one heck of a pay-day. We refunded the tickets.
I hope those wrestlers on that card told Ron how much they respected and loved him, before he died. I know I did ... and I still do.
