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http://kayfabememories.com/Stories/mickkarch/mk28.htm

The Great Brinks Robbery, D.B. Cooper, Bonnie and Clyde, Patty Hearst
and the Symbianese Liberation Army, Mick Karch.

They are all guilty of some of history's greatest thefts.  The story
is true, I'm here to say. I'm here to lay it all out, 'fess up in
puh-lic, if you wee-ull.' And while it may not be one of the great
larcenies in the annals of crime-dom, I'm taking the proper steps to
cleanse myself of a horrible deed that took place in the spring of
1965.

As a young lad barely into his teens who spent most of his Saturday
afternoons at the Dyckman Hotel in downtown Minneapolis waiting for
the AWA wrestlers to obtain their itinerary and paycheck from the
Minneapolis Boxing and Wrestling Club, something came over me that
fateful day as I ascended via elevator to the hallowed walls of Suite
605, home to the aforementioned MBWC. Joining me in what would have
been a heist worthy of a movie script was my erstwhile childhood
friend, Bruce Bukstein. He was as big a fan as I was. He bought all
the mags and all the programs, published a newsletter and had
correspondents all over the country. (He has long since moved on with
his life while I have somehow or other stuck like glue to the
wrestling business.)

Sorry. I digress, The plot was in place. I was going to tread where no
reasonably sane person had ever gone before. I was going to
swipe...pilfer...lift.....oh, alright......STEAL.......an 8 x 10 photo
of Verne Gagne. It pains me to say so, but I didn't want to spend the
mere 50 cent cost for the picture. Now, I know that 50 cents may not
seem like a lot, but back 38 years ago, when I needed to have enough
money to eat at the Forum Cafeteria down the street, it may as well
have been a million bucks.

You know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men..... 
Ilene Higgins, the Wrestling Club Secretary at the time, was in the
back room, I believe talking with the late Minneapolis matchmaker Bill
Kuusisto. It was in those few moments that I was going to pull off
'the job' and slip Verne's black and white 8 x 10 into my bag. The
only problem was, Ilene and Bill finished their conversation ahead of
schedule (at least ahead of MY schedule).

Ilene came around the corner. Her eyes met mine. Verne's photo was
half in the bag (not to be confused with a condition that I must have
been in to think I could get away with this) as her face reflected the
anger and hurt that this one transgression had caused. After all, I
had been coming up to the Wrestling Office for more than a year, and
outside of being an occasional annoyance to Reggie Parks, I had
behaved like a young gentleman. Ilene had always treated me nicely.
Always thinking on my feet, I came up with a brilliant verbal response
to the terrifying scene that was playing itself out. I got a
sh*t-eatin' grin on my face and nervously stammered, "V-v-v-verne."
I'm not sure why I said that. Ilene clearly didn't need to be told
whose image was on that glossy paper, She sternly reached out and took
the picture from my hand and placed it back on the file cabinet. With
a mere 13 words, Ilene said all that needed to be said..... 13 words
that cut like a dagger through my very soul. "If you didn't have the
money, I would have given you the picture."

I have carried that statement with my like an albatross for lo, these
many years. But, you know something? I've done my time. I've paid my
debt to society. And today, before all my fellow Kayfabers, I have
come clean. But I must admit, have wondered about something all this
time. Would she have cared if the picture would have been of Santiago
Acosta?


--- Internet Rex 2.29