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http://kayfabememories.com/Stories/mickkarch/mk27.htm

So many in the wrestling business who knew the late Minneapolis
wrestling promoter Wally Karbo loved the guy. In one respect, he was
very similar to his TV persona. He would often stumble over his words
and come up with what were affectionately dubbed "Wally-isms," words,
phrases, thoughts or ideas that only Wally could deliver.

He was a great friend of mine in the wrestling game. When I wanted so
desprately to be a part of the business, Wally was my ally, always
telling me to hang in there,  to be patient, that things would break
for me someday. Though he was a staunch supporter of mine and felt
that I had the talent to broadcast for the AWA, he fought a losing
battle for a long time to the AWA hierarchy. Ironically, it was after
Wally had left the AWA and started doing some legwork for the WWF,
that I was finally hired by the AWA.

Incredible as it seems to me (you have no idea how scary it is, the
quick passage of time), it is 10 years this week since Wally passed
away. To this day I miss him, those messages on my answering machine
that simply said, "Hey, pal....it's Wally...call me."  But as sad as I
get missing the guy, he was such a character that to this day when his
cohorts get together and talk about him, he brings smiles and laughs
to all of us.

One story that I love to tell took place about 12 years ago. Wally was
getting me booked for an announcing gig with the Ladies Professional
Wrestling Association (LPWA). He invited me to lunch at a Twin Cities
restaurant to discuss the booking. When we had finished eating, Wally
offered to give me a lift to my next destination. You must picture
this: it was the dead of winter and Wally, ever the fashion plate, was
wearing a stocking cap perched precariously on the side of his balding
head, with those few ever-present, Brylcreem hairs sticking out.

We made our way to the parking lot, shivering in the Minnesota cold. I
looked behind me, and there was Wally, standing in the middle of the
parking lot, scratching his head and looking around, bewildered. The
conversation went something like this:

"What's the matter, Wally?"

"I don't see the car, Pal..."

"You don't remember where you parked it?"

"I don't remember what kind of car it was!"

"You're kidding me."

"No. It was a rental car....I'll be f**ked if I can remember the
make."

"Do you remember anything about it?"

"Yeah, Pal...it was red. And there should be a road map on the front
seat."

With that, I watched as Wally Karbo, stocking cap, trench coat and
all, went around the parking lot, peering into the window of every
late-model red car he could see. A few minutes into the search, that
infamous, nasal voice hollered, "hey.....here it is!!!"

It was 10 years and it seems like yesterday. I sure miss that guy.


--- Internet Rex 2.29