How 'The Russian Lion' Inspired The Planet's First Bout Of Wrestlemania

Richard Luck celebrates the life and times of Georg Hackenschmidt, the body-building renaissance man who put sports entertainment on the map.

A version of this article appeared in The New European.

The world of professional wrestling is no stranger to scandal and controversy. Back in the dark ages, the grapple game was such a disreputable affair, few outside of the carnival booths would have known anything about the skulduggery that went on within.

Now, however, Vince McMahon's World Wrestling Entertainment is a show business behemoth, a globe-spanning entity worth upwards of a billion dollars. This being so, issues such as the employee status of the company's wrestlers - or 'Superstars' as the WWE insists on calling them - not to mention the tragic, untimely deaths that have become a feature of the industry, are headline news.

But who was it that transformed pro wrestling from a crude sideshow into an entertainment able to sell out stadiums and attract the upper echelons of society? The answer isn't McMahon, much though he'd like it to be. No, wrestling as we know it today came into being courtesy of a small but perfectly formed Estonian by the name of Georg Hackenschmidt.

Memorably - albeit erroneously - billed as 'The Russian Lion', Georg Karl Julius Hackenschmidt was the Hulk Hogan, Ric Flair and Andre The Giant of his day. Measuring a mere 5' 9'', Georg (sometimes with an 'e', more often without) stood out from the crowd on account of his physique. Looking for all the world like a condom stuffed full of walnuts, Hackenschmidt was often mentioned in the same breath of Eugen Sandow and Apollon The Mighty, men whose dedication to the body beautiful had brought them global fame.

Hackenschmidt was no meathead, mind you. A gifted athlete, he excelled at everything from swimming and cycling to sprinting and gymnastics. A trained blacksmith to boot, Georg spoke seven languages, wrote books on exercise and physical culture and hobnobbed with the likes of Teddy Roosevelt and George Bernard Shaw. All this, and he also wrestled.

Born in 1877, Georg Hackenschmidt wouldn't step into a wrestling ring until his late teens. Having attempted the Greco-Roman discipline - then as now an Olympic event - Georg was urged to turn professional by the magnificently monikered Dr Vladislav von Krajewski, his coach at the St Petersburg Athletic and Cycling Club; Hackenschmidt having swapped Tallinn for Russia's then capital upon turning 21. Causing quite a stir by defeating the noted French grappler Paul Pons in an early match-ups, Hackenschmidt's career was briefly interrupted by an obligatory stint in the army. Upon his return to Civvy Street, Georg headed back to the squared circle where he triumphed over Mr Von Schmelling to lift the Russian title. The year was 1899 and Georg Hackenschmidt was all of 22-years-old.

Before we progress any further, it's probably worth pointing out that, in the early 1900s, professional wrestling was more of a sport than it is today. Sure, plenty of Hackenschmidt's bouts smacked of what's now referred to as 'sports entertainment'. More often than not, however, Georg was participating in legitimate contests, hour-long bouts that were completely free of modern pro wrestling's pyro and ballyhoo.

With the new century came a host of fresh challenges for Georg Hackenschmidt. Barely three years after turning pro, our man was in Vienna winning the championship of the world tournament. There then followed a move to the UK where Hackenschmidt fell in with the theatrical impresario CB Cochran with whom he'd proceed to take the local wrestling scene by storm. Highly adept at the catch-as-catch-can style that predominated in the UK, Georg played to packed theatres and music halls the length and breadth of the country, destroying all those set before him. Since he was so imposing and popular, you might have thought crowds would tire of Georg's seemingly endless winning streak. Such was the quality of Hackenschmidt's showmanship, there was always an audience willing to pay to see him. What's more, Cochran was forever coming up with ways in which to freshen up the act; it wasn't rare for Georg to take on two, three even four challengers in a single evening.

The true extent of Hackenschmidt's fame became apparent the night he took on Ahmed Madrali (nickname 'The Terrible Turk') at Olympia in January 1904. The match itself was a non-event with Georg coming out on top in barely two minutes. Such was the interest in the bout, however, that the London traffic was at a standstill between Piccadilly and Earl's Court. Britain had contracted the first ever strain of 'WrestleMania', and pretty soon the infection was to spread overseas.

A global sensation at a time when worldwide fame was all but unheard of, Georg Hackenschmidt left the UK later in 1904 to tour Australian and America - he was paid £150 a week for his trouble; to put this in perspective, the average annual salary was £70. In the US, he squared off against old foe Tom Jenkins in front of a sell-out crowd at Madison Square Garden. As he'd easily defeated Jenkins in London, so 'The Russian Lion' roared to victory again in New York; the only difference being that this time Georg was awarded the title of freestyle heavyweight champion of the world. It was a belt Hackenschmidt would hold for the better part of three years.

When defeat finally called upon Georg Hackenschmidt, it brought with it no end of controversy and confusion. Standing up to comparison with such infamous boxing feuds as Liston-Clay, Leonard-Duran and Tyson-Holyfield, Georg Hackenschmidt's encounters with American great Frank Gotch all but caused an international incident. The pair first contested Hackenschmidt's world title on April 3rd 1908 in Chicago. An epic, multi-hour affair, Hackenschmidt-Gotch I not only saw the challenger illegally punch the champion but produced the unusual spectacle of Georg insisting Gotch take a shower to wash excess muscle oil from his body, a request that the referee denied. A best-of-three falls encounter, Gotch struck the first blow, forcing Hackenschmidt to submit more from exhaustion than in response to a particular hold. The opponents then repaired to the dressing room to ready themselves for the second fall, only for Hackenschmidt to send word to the ring that he would not be returning and that Gotch should be awarded the title.

So underwhelming a conclusion left fans baying for a rematch. When Georg next met Gotch in September 1911, it was again in Chicago, only this time at the newly-opened baseball stadium, Comiskey Park, in front of a paying audience of 30,000. Hackenschmidt came into the bout making it very clear that he was carrying an injury. What was less certain was whether the knee trouble stemmed from an accident in sparring or, as the wrestler Ad Santel later claimed, from a deliberate attempt to cripple the challenger endorsed by the Gotch camp. Whatever the truth of the matter, Hackenschmidt-Gotch II proved another anti-climax, the hometown favourite taming the Lion in a little over 20 minutes. It would be the last time Georg Hackenschmidt wrestled competitively.

Returning to his London home, Hackenschmidt hung up his wrestling boots and dedicated himself a new life, largely outside of the public eye. Philosophy, gardening, the science of physical culture - these became his new preoccupations. Largely vegetarian at a time when such a thing was all but unheard of, Georg wrote widely about the importance of tradition. And as he'd been an innovator in the ring - he popularised such holds as 'the bear hug' - Hackenschmidt also pioneered a variety of gym exercises. Indeed, if you ever find yourself performing a hack squat, you're practising a technique patented and named after the erstwhile wrestling champ.

The end of his in-ring career did little to dim Georg's popularity, mind you. His visits to the Houses of Parliament to promote the importance of exercise led to friendships with all manner of lords, ladies and MPs. He was also very good friends with Harry Houdini, the magician and escapologist sharing Hackenschmidt's passion for bodybuilding. Rather more unusually, the wrestler found himself summoned to the flat of George Bernard Shaw in 1934. A meeting made possible by CB Cochran, the two Georg(e)s spent a very pleasant evening together discussing philosophy and evolution. Shaw - whose passion for strongmen would later see him embrace some truly repellent characters - would remain on very good terms with Hackenschmidt, their unlikely friendship producing letters that are as charming as they are improbable.

And when he wasn't collecting celebrity pals, Georg Hackenschmidt was adding to his array of passports. Russian by birth, he become a French citizen in 1939 upon marrying his wife Rachel Marie. Seven short years later, the Hackenschmidts became British subjects, living out their retirement years in South Norwood.

When he finally submitted to Old Father Time in 1968 at the grand old age of 90, the obituary writers remarked that Gerog Hackenschmidt had never come to terms with losing to Frank Gotch. But while he never had a good word to say about the American, Hackenschmidt was surely smart enough to appreciate that those defeats only created uproar because he had done so much to promote professional wrestling internationally. Sure, Gotch might have come out on top, but were it not for Hackenschmidt, the rematch in Chicago would have drawn a gate closer to 300 than 30,000.

Besides, it's daft to recall 'The Russian Lion' in defeat when it's that much more satisfying to remember the praise he received from his most famous celebrity fan, Theodore Roosevelt: "If I wasn't president of the United States, I would like to be Georg Hackenschmidt."