Let's not totally malign body builders as rentals go. Aside from the lingering aroma of coconut oils, most of them are genuinely good people, both females and males, and at least as devoted to their interests as the majority of us are to ours. In most cases, I found them no more . . . "annoying" . . . than 'dance Moms' as a category. Here's a little more background / detail on the incident I mentioned earlier:Bodybuilders... I'm lucky I haven't even though of that type of show until now. I'll have nightmares of what those groups are like from now on, even without having dealt with any.
The fellow who was murdered in the lobby had been a real sweetheart all day. A few years previously, he had competed regularly and was consistently winning in his categories on an annual basis. One year he announced his retirement from competitive bodybuilding and eased his way into advanced, competitive, training; physically, emotionally and diet-wise. At that point he began renting table space in the lobby to market his wares. He was maybe 60 years of age and that's a total guesstimate. At that point in time, we were seeing competitive bodybuilding rentals two, possibly three, times per year. They got to know us and the venue and we got to know them. When the retired champion announced he was returning to compete one last time, the crowd was split with half of them cheering wholeheartedly for the beloved retired legend and others, primarily members of a biker gang, cheering for the new, much younger, up and comer who just happened to be a member of their motorcycle club.
In downtown Hamilton there was a small, private, foundry called McCoy Industries who primarily manufactured barbells and dumbbells and were always corporate sponsors of the competitive bodybuilding events and routinely had lobby displays and spokespersons marketing their products and offering competition specials to anyone wishing to buy display items and save them the trouble of returning them to their warehouse. The competition between the retired multi-year champion and the tough new biker dude became the event of the day. At the end of the competition, and having just won his event and regained his belt and title, everyone's hero was out at his table signing autographs and selling his photos and books. I'm recalling this was a matinee and the finale of a multi-day event. The lobby was packed with patrons and competitors alike purchasing bargains from the various vendors. Seemingly no one heard or noticed anything out of the ordinary but when the crowds dispersed the FOH manager discovered the murder scene on the ground level of the lobby and directly in front of the passenger elevator. Some one had acquired a barbell from the McCoy Foundries display, removed the locking collar and weights from one end, rotated the barbell into a vertical orientation and driven the unweighted end down and through the skull of the elder competitor smashing a hole through his skull and leaving his award winning body to die.
More than enough said. Not a good way to end a matinee, a competition or a life.
Let me be clear: I'm not against bodybuilders, motorcyclists or even theater consultants.
The murder scene was in the lobby of the Hamilton Place Great Hall in the latter half of the seventies. The event where I had to hang around 'til roughly 2:00 a.m. waiting for a competitor to manage to urinate in an official's steroid testing cup was more than a decade later in Hamilton's Theater Aquarius in the very early 90's.
At some point I'll post further on the 'joys' of lighting a bodybuilding competition and some of the blatant lies I was told.
No one will die in that post, I promise.
Edit: I'd misspelled finale.
Toodleoo!
Ron Hebbard
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