Post-Game Riot Probe a Blame Game

In the early 1960s, I sat in on one of the most entertaining professional wrestling shows of the season. But it took place before only a few dozen spectators. There were four wrestlers and a referee.

It was a session conducted by members of the New York State Athletic Commission. Commissioners were eager to determine the cause of a riot at the conclusion of a wrestling match a few days earlier at Madison Square Garden.

As might be expected from a sport New York State mandated had to be billed as "exhibitions" rather than "contests," no one was prepared to accept the blame. Even Antonino Rocca and Jerry Graham, who emerged from the riot with bloodied faces, failed to throw any light on the subject.

They had been involved in a familiar four-man tag team match at the Garden that included Dick Affila and Frenchman Eduard Carpentier. The grapplers had performed before almost 13,000, a large turnout for a sport, it was said, that produced winners determined in advance.

The testimony of the four wrestlers provided a study in innocence. Rocca was apologetic. He said he was sorry about the trouble. Graham, with a patch on his right temple, reported he only recalled on-rushing spectators toward the ring. Carpentier testified he didn't know why the riot had started.

"How could I?" he asked. "My back was turned at the time."

As for Affila, he didn't even recall seeing a fight. What he did remember was that "at least one fan had reached through the ropes and tugged on his leg."

Evidence was provided that the riot was triggered after Graham and Rocca had begun fighting on the ring's apron. A few minutes earlier the referee had awarded the victory on a disqualification to Rocca's team.

This was no new experience for me. As a young reporter for The New York Times suburban sports section, I had reported on weekly pro wrestling shows held at such small clubs as the Golden City Arena in Canarsie, the Broadway Arena in Brooklyn and the Bronx Velodrome.

I had seen two gladiators growl at each other after their match. It was done, I had become convinced, to create more excitement in the crowd. But I have never seen wrestling spectators get as involved as they did that night at Madison Square Garden.

Within seconds after the Rocca-Graham post-match confrontation, scores of spectators left their seats to join the melee. Chairs were smashed as fans - most apparently partial to Rocca - joined the uprising. Spectators stormed toward the ring in an attempt to reach the wrestlers. Two city police officers were injured and two arrests were made, but that was even before the situation became really critical.

At one point during the subsequent panic, a metal chair was dropped from the third-deck balcony. It barely missed men and women trying to get out of the Garden's 50^th Street exit. By that time, Rocca and Graham - having triggered the outbreak - were safe, in the dressing quarters.

Professional wrestling shows, as presented in the United States, always have focused on providing interesting and unexpected finishes. Even the hearing by the New York State Athletic Commission that day proved no exception. It allowed a spectator to conclude the hearing.

This gentleman did not pin the blame for the trouble on Rocca, Graham, Carpentier or Affila.

The culprit?

The spectator insisted it was the referee, Danny Bartfield, a retired lightweight boxer, because he had allowed the match that triggered the trouble to get out of hand.

That was when the hearing hastily, it seemed to me, was adjourned.