I'm good to you guys, couldn't scan so I sat and typed out for you!!
 
from my September issue of Boxing Illustrated Wrestling News
 
The Hawk and The Hunter
by George Salvador
 
Rip Hawk and Rock Hunter make a perfect team. They think alike, the wrestle alike, the look alike  
and the have the same ambitions.
 
"Bull Curry...?"
Rock Huter rolled the name around on his tongue then spat it out.
"A mean nasty old man." he grimaced.
"One of the dirtiest," agreed Rip Hawk, Rock's tag team partner.
Hunter: "If there's one guy I can't stomach it's Bull Curry."
Hawk: "More than anything else, he needs a bath."
Hunter: "And we're gonna see that ge gets one tonight eh Rip?"
Hawk: "Right. When we get through with him they'll have to put him under an ice cold shower to revive him"
Hunter: "Yeah I guess that's the only way he'll ever get near water"
Hawk: "Who's the guy wrestling with Curry tonight?"
Hunter: "Some bum by the name of Lucas Pestano"
Hawk (musingly): "Curry-Pestano...Sounds like a piece of Italian-Indian pastry."
Hunter: "Naw. Sounds more like a Mexican duck soup. And that's what we're gonna make out of 'em. Right, Rip"
Hawk: "You read me, boy!"
 
Fresh from a score of triumphs in the Mid-West, the blond, crewcut grapplers strutted around their dressing room in Houston (Texas) Coliseum.
 
"After all," Hawk told their vistor, "we'll be doing the fans a favour. They can't stand Curry any mor ethan we do"
"Besides," said Rock "we'll be giving them an extra treat by letting them watch us" He examined his profile in a mirror. " Did you ever see such handsome guys like us?" he asked modestlly.
The visitor started to say something but Rip Hawk cut him short. "Careful now, " he warned "we don't want you to wear out your welcome."
Rock put up a hand. "No, let him talk Rip. We don't want anybody accusing us of squelching free speech."
"Well" said the visitor hesitantly, "there's one thing I don't understand..."
"What's that?" said Rip.
"Why, you fellows sound meaner than a bucketful of Bull Currys. What makes you think the fans will like you any better then him?"
"LIKE?" Rip bellowed. "who said anything about that? We want those customers out there to HATE us!"
"But-" the visitor protested.
Rock proddded him sharply in the ribs. "You'rve had your say," he rumbled. "Now beat it before you push your luck too far."
 
Two minutes later the stocky grapplers, looking like twins in black jackets emblazoned with a white skull and crossbones insignia, strode down the aisle to the accopmpaniment of thunderous boos.
Rip stopped midway and turned to Hunter. "Hear that music, Rock?" he said cupping an ear.
Rock beamed. "Why, they're playing our song Rip!"
 
The "music" reached a crescendo barely five seconds after the bout began. Pestano dived at Hawk but missed the target, sailed clear over the ropes and landed on the concrete floor with a crunch-smash-splatter.
Now the crewcuts had Curry all to themselves. And what a time they had! They chased himout of the ring and were whooping and hollering when, suddenly, Curry came blasting back with a truck tire rim.
He was about to crash it over Rock's head when Rip snatched it away and tried to bring it down on Bull's head. Luckily, the referee grabbed him from behind. Then Rock clutched at the rim and all hell broke loose.
Finally, another referee stepped in and kept Curry at bay while he tussled with Rock for the rusted steel rim. The fans, on their feet now, were walleyed with excitement as the action swirled at ringside.
What happened then was not too clear but all of a sudden the rumpus had dies down and Rip and Rock, arm over shoulder, were swaggering back to their dressing room.
"Assassin!" shrieked a prune faced old lady.
Rock swung over to her and bunched a fist under her nose. "One more word outta you lady and I'll make you swallow this"
"Murderer" screamed the old babe.
Hunter suddenly looked chastened "Ah, you don't mean that, do you, mother?"
"Snake" she hissed.
Rock turned to his partner and beamed "hear that Rip, She really LIKES me!"
By a curious thought process, Rock has a theory that most fans don't boo him because they hate his guts. They abuse him, he says, because they're afraid to express admiration for his wrestling skills.
Why?
Explains Rock:"They're just sensitive, that's all. They fear other spectators will ridicule them for being soft"
If this line of reasoning sounds screwy, Hunter has a ready argument:
"Deep down they admire my wrestling ability. I'm good and they know I'm good. So how can they have anything in their hearts but admiration for me?"
Not suprisingly, Rip Hawk feels the same way.
"Those jeers" he says, "are meant to be cheers. And they would be too, if the fans could let loose with their real feelings and not worry about what the fellows sittingnext to them think"
Whether the jeers are cheers or vice versa, they sound the same whenever the Hunter and the Hawk go into action - goshawful.
Take the time they tangled with Canada's handsome Bill Dromo and bearded ex-lumberjack Tony Borne in the same Houston Coliseum.
Before the match, 5' 10", 230 pound Rip bragged: "What we're going to do to those guys is unbelievab;e. So many thoughts have been running through my mind about them that I can't even keep up with them. And half of them scare even me"
"They ought to," commented a reporter, "because Rip Hawk is so mean he curdles milk with one glance. Not that he's a rougher like The Bruiser or Killer Kowalski... THe Hawk relies on his ability to outfox his opponent, then administer the coup de grace with some sly maneuver which might escape the referees watchful eyes....
"And if Hawk is caught in the execution of some misdeed, he quickly assumes the innocence of a mischievious choir boy who has just landed a spitball on the rectors ear during church services.
"To hear the Hawk protest his innocence as the referee starts his third-degree is a sight to behole. Rip cajoles, pleads and goes through the agonies of the damned to get the referee off his back"
 
Big Bill Dromo (6' 3", 240 pounds) had heard of Rip's reputation and choose (wisely he thought) to wrestle Rock in he opening minutes. But it didn't make any difference. he soon learned that the Hunter was just as formidable.
Dromo didn;t get a chance to use his spectaculor Knee Lift or Rocking Chair weapns. Rock savagely mauled and battered him around the ring.
When Rip roared out of the corner he started to give Borne the same treatment. Tough Tony let him blast away for a while and then - Wham! He loosed a tremendous hot to the midsection and Rip, gasping and holding his belly, toppled to the canvas.
Hunter rushed to his partners aid. Right on his heels came Bill Dromo. Rock turned to smash his pursuer. But Dromo kept bouncing back. Meanwhile Rip had gotten up and floored Borne. Rock quickly tunred Dromo loose and let the Hawk deliver the final blast. The Rock pouned on Borne and injured him so badly that the referee and a policeman had to carry him out of the ring.
Hands over their head, Rock and Rip strutted around, acknowledgin the jeers of the crowd./ At least it sounded like jeering. But not to the victors
"Wonderful crowd" Rock said.
"Couldn't be better" Rip agreed.