JennyOHill2
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2010
- Posts
- 536
Gene Kiniski was a mean, nasty, vicious scoundrel
http://beta.images.theglobeandmail.com/archive/00599/kiniski_jpeg_599563gm-a.jpg
(From Toronto Globe and Mail
Fans threw shoes and chairs at him. One stabbed him in the back with a shiv.
More than once, a Kiniski match began in the ring only to be settled in the parking lot. He once drove an opponent’s head into a parked car, leaving a large dent and bent chrome featured prominently in a photograph in the next morning’s newspaper.
His favourite move was known as the back-breaker. For nearly four decades, he was hated in three lands as the worst villain in professional wrestling. In 1960, the Toronto Shoe Repairmen named him Heel of the Year. Everyone called him Mean Gene.
Gosh, but he was a swell fellow.
A crew-cut behemoth with a baked-potato nose, cauliflower ears and fingers as thick as kielbasa, Mr. Kiniski brought to his sport a wit as sharp as a hidden razor. He knew how to ballyhoo. He was under no illusions about the wrestling racket.
Mr. Kiniski succumbed to cancer last week, his own body defeating him as no rival ever could.
He was an unforgettable character on television, standing 6 foot 4, weighing 275 pounds, his speaking voice a rasp that sounded like he gargled with crushed glass.
Even his name was tough, those Polish consonants grinding against the vowels.
Mr. Kiniski claimed the championships of the two major pro wrestling circuits, becoming one of the most familiar, if infamous, sporting figures of the 1960s.
Mr. Kiniski was the youngest of six children born to a poor family in hardscrabble rural Alberta. His father worked as a $5-a-week barber, while his Polish-born mother sold cosmetics door to door and managed a cafe. When Gene was 15, she went back to school to complete her education, interrupted in Grade 7. She contested 11 elections before winning a seat on Edmonton City Council, where she proved a formidable advocate for the poor. Every year, on her birthday, Gene made sure she received a bottle of Joy perfume. Long after her death, her son said even the slightest rose-and-jasmine whiff of her favourite perfume reduced him to tears.
He spent three seasons with the Edmonton Eskimos, earning a scholarship with the University of Arizona Wildcats. He learned he could make lots of money in the ring. Incredibly, his first ring nickname was Skinny Gene Kiniski.
Mean Gene settled in Vancouver in the early 1960s, touting the city’s beauty at every opportunity. He was a proud Canadian, even after establishing his residence just across the border. He owned the Reef Tavern in Point Roberts, a popular watering hole for thirsty Canadians, especially on Sunday in the days when British Columbia’s liquor laws were still influenced by Prohibition.
Mr. Kiniski finally retired from the ring at age 64 because he said no one wanted to see an old guy beat the crap out of a young guy.
Wrestling World magazine once featured a full-colour photograph on its cover of Mr. Kiniski using a ring rope to choke into submission some hapless opponent. The headline read, “I’m Not Afraid Of Anything, by Gene Kiniski.”

http://beta.images.theglobeandmail.com/archive/00599/kiniski_jpeg_599563gm-a.jpg
(From Toronto Globe and Mail
Fans threw shoes and chairs at him. One stabbed him in the back with a shiv.
More than once, a Kiniski match began in the ring only to be settled in the parking lot. He once drove an opponent’s head into a parked car, leaving a large dent and bent chrome featured prominently in a photograph in the next morning’s newspaper.
His favourite move was known as the back-breaker. For nearly four decades, he was hated in three lands as the worst villain in professional wrestling. In 1960, the Toronto Shoe Repairmen named him Heel of the Year. Everyone called him Mean Gene.
Gosh, but he was a swell fellow.
A crew-cut behemoth with a baked-potato nose, cauliflower ears and fingers as thick as kielbasa, Mr. Kiniski brought to his sport a wit as sharp as a hidden razor. He knew how to ballyhoo. He was under no illusions about the wrestling racket.
Mr. Kiniski succumbed to cancer last week, his own body defeating him as no rival ever could.
He was an unforgettable character on television, standing 6 foot 4, weighing 275 pounds, his speaking voice a rasp that sounded like he gargled with crushed glass.
Even his name was tough, those Polish consonants grinding against the vowels.
Mr. Kiniski claimed the championships of the two major pro wrestling circuits, becoming one of the most familiar, if infamous, sporting figures of the 1960s.
Mr. Kiniski was the youngest of six children born to a poor family in hardscrabble rural Alberta. His father worked as a $5-a-week barber, while his Polish-born mother sold cosmetics door to door and managed a cafe. When Gene was 15, she went back to school to complete her education, interrupted in Grade 7. She contested 11 elections before winning a seat on Edmonton City Council, where she proved a formidable advocate for the poor. Every year, on her birthday, Gene made sure she received a bottle of Joy perfume. Long after her death, her son said even the slightest rose-and-jasmine whiff of her favourite perfume reduced him to tears.
He spent three seasons with the Edmonton Eskimos, earning a scholarship with the University of Arizona Wildcats. He learned he could make lots of money in the ring. Incredibly, his first ring nickname was Skinny Gene Kiniski.
Mean Gene settled in Vancouver in the early 1960s, touting the city’s beauty at every opportunity. He was a proud Canadian, even after establishing his residence just across the border. He owned the Reef Tavern in Point Roberts, a popular watering hole for thirsty Canadians, especially on Sunday in the days when British Columbia’s liquor laws were still influenced by Prohibition.
Mr. Kiniski finally retired from the ring at age 64 because he said no one wanted to see an old guy beat the crap out of a young guy.
Wrestling World magazine once featured a full-colour photograph on its cover of Mr. Kiniski using a ring rope to choke into submission some hapless opponent. The headline read, “I’m Not Afraid Of Anything, by Gene Kiniski.”
