Willie Gilzenberg Biography

By Tim Hornbaker

     Enthusiasts attending the monthly professional wrestling events at New York’s
Madison Square Garden in Pennsylvania Plaza during the 1960s and ’70s were
accustom to seeing the name of Willie Gilzenberg listed on the front of the official arena
program. Gilzenberg was identified as the President of the World Wide Wrestling
Federation, the sanctioning body behind the promotion of Vincent McMahon, known
throughout the wrestling world as a revolutionary. While McMahon is thoroughly
recognized for his accomplishments at the top of a popular pro wrestling organization,
Gilzenberg is often overlooked for his contributions to the development of the WWWF,
the precursor to today’s WWE.

     The fact is that Gilzenberg played a much larger role in the WWWF’s creation and
expansion than most people know. McMahon’s lofty vision for the northeastern territory
was balanced by crafty ideas and a series of decisions that broke the mold for a region of
cities controlled by a central office. United, their conglomerate was strong willed and
powerfully constructed, and able to function without the aid of the National Wrestling
Alliance, a long standing union of bookers which had, illegally, monopolized the sport.
The usage of television as a way to both promote and expand was as innovative as it was
controversial, but, in the end, demonstrated the competence of McMahon and his
partners.

     Gilzenberg, nicknamed the “Beard” for his perpetual five o’clock shadow, was a well
known veteran of wrestling and boxing by the time he linked up with Vince, and had done
business with McMahon’s father, the esteemed “Jess” McMahon, one-time partner of Tex
Rickard. The McMahons had been ingrained in the culture of New York sports since the
early 1910s, and based out of Newark, Gilzenberg had seen the highs and lows of the
tumultuous promotional landscape.

     Born on October 24, 1901 in Essex County, New Jersey, William Gilzenberg was the
first child of Jacob and Pauline Gilzenberg, Austrian born immigrants. He grew up on
Springfield Avenue and heeded the lessons of his stern parents, obtained an education,
and became a student of professional athletics. In local gymnasiums, he found
employment as a corner man and trainer for aspiring boxers, and earned wages from the
boxing industry as early as 1918 at the Ark-New Club. Managing was a natural
progression, and he took the contracts of many hopefuls, including George “Happy”
Benkert, Lew Seltzer, Lou Halper, Abie Bain, and Vince Dundee.

     In the arts of boxing promotions, Willie was mentored by Paddy Ryan (not the
original), and staged his first ever show in 1926 at the Grandview Amusement Park in
Little Falls, New Jersey. The affair was between Pietro Couri and Frank Montagna and
the spectacle gave Gilzenberg the bug. Not an athlete of any repute, he was more suited
for negotiations and the conception of matches that enthralled spectators. Being a
promoter was the job he was born for.

     Going into the Great Depression, Willie was given the responsibility of matchmaking
for Harry Mendel at the Velodrome in Newark, and became acquainted with numerous
“big-time” fighters and promoters in the New York City metropolitan area. Possessing a
youthfulness and spirit that rekindled the local boxing office, business flourished. Willie
remained allies with Mendel, who would go on to manage heavyweight prospect Tony
Galento, but found a new partner in Thomas “Babe” Culnan in March 1932. Culnan had
resided in Newark since 1916 and had been a member of distinguished promotional
squad known as the “Four Horsemen” with Frank Black, Harry Blaufuss, and Nick Kline.

     With Culnan’s experience and Gilzenberg’s enthusiasm, the two reestablished the
fight game in Northern New Jersey under the guise of Laurel Sports Activities, Inc. Willie
also took on the management of the wrestling side of the Laurel Gardens in Newark,
obtaining grapplers from the Jack Pfefer and “Toots” Mondt booking offices of New York.
The wild-and-wooly grappling business always presented a challenge, but fans were
given the best product available, seeing the likes of Jim Londos, The Golden Terror,
Chief Little Wolf, Angelo Savoldi, and the Dusek Brothers. He padded the cards with
talent, staged tournaments, and authorized all the mayhem wrestling could muster to
draw up the excitement.

     Gilzenberg proved his willingness to try new techniques to spark interest and believed
in the diversity of week-to-week “scripts” to keep things as lively as possible. A more
than competent businessman, Willie wasn’t in it only for the money. He wanted to
preserve their operations for the long haul, and didn’t see the advantages in anything
that could burn out his main venue on a singular gamble. On more than one occasion,
his patience and manners were tested by heartless bookers of talent who were always
concentrated on their bottom line.

     Civic orientated, Gilzenberg was at the crux of many local fundraisers and regularly
added benefits to his boxing and wrestling programs, especially during the holidays. He
was never ignorant to what the municipality of Newark meant to him, and was cognizant of
what he was personally getting out of paying customers, which were, essentially, his
neighbors. In 1938, he pooled his resources with Culnan and William J. Patterson to
construct the Meadowbrook Bowl outdoor stadium in South Orange, a site of many of the
region’s top athletic events.

     Around 1933-’34, Gilzenberg met a young up-and-coming fighter from Elizabeth, New
Jersey named Freddie Cochrane, and became his official manager. The red-headed
lightweight, and later welterweight, had built an impressive record. By November 1935,
Cochrane was 23-3 and looking for a match with Tony Canzoneri, but instead of
streaking toward the top of the class, he lost more than half of his 44 fights over the next
three years, and sank into the doldrums of mediocrity. It wasn’t that Cochrane lacked
talent, or heart for that matter, as most of his losses were on points, but he wasn’t of
championship timber. Gilzenberg remained with Freddie, giving him consistent work in
Newark through the end of the decade.

     Popular with the local crowd, Cochrane kept plugging away, using his sturdy jaw and
quick hands to regain some footing in the boxing world. Gilzenberg never gave up trying
to establish something positive, and a series of nine victories in a row set the stage for a
coo of sorts, landing a World Welterweight Championship match for Newark at Ruppert
Stadium on July 29, 1941. “Red” Cochrane was going in against the defending champion
of nine months, Fritzie Zivic of Pittsburgh, and was the definite underdog, with odds as
high as 20-1. Needless to say, both Freddie and Gilzenberg had a lot riding on the affair,
but with the bout being staged in Newark, the challenger had home field advantage.

     Pundits have examined and scrutinized the Zivic-Cochrane match for the last 65
years. There is a heavy leaning among that crowd that the Newark bout was fixed, a
sham that was concocted by men in dark suits under the cover of night. The main
reason was because Cochrane came out the victor in a heavily contested fistic battle,
one that was decided on points by a local referee/judge after 15 rounds. Large amounts
of money traded hands in the aftermath and people cried foul, but no matter what had
been said or done, Gilzenberg had driven his top man to the championship of the world.
And certainly no one could pin-point him with any blame of wrong-doing. All that was left
was accusations.

     Most every fight manager and promoter in the United States absolutely had to have
some sort of loose ties to the criminal underworld. It just wasn’t an option on the table.
Frankie Carbo, a reputed mobster, was neck deep in professional boxing, and there wasn’
t a major contest being staged that he didn’t have something to do with. Through the
years, Willie’s knowledge and understanding of how things were done grew, of course,
but again, not a single person could say his comprehension of subtle dealings
compromised his ethical standards. He was a tough man in a tough business, and had to
“play ball” to make a living.

     Cochrane’s championship victory appeared tainted to those who were a little less
idealistic of upsets for the hometown hero, but there was no proof on any level. Several
weeks after the bout, Gilzenberg stepped out of his position in Laurel Sports Activities to
devote himself to the titleholder full-time. An untimely controversy of Cochrane’s reign
occurred following the fighter’s bout with lightweight champion Lew Jenkins at Madison
Square Garden on October 6, 1941. The tedious match went ten rounds to a decision in
favor of Freddie, but an investigation by the New York Athletic Commission turned up
some disheartening news. According to the October 8 edition of the New York Times,
Gilzenberg had told his fighter to “take things easy in the early part of the bout,” which
resulted in a six month suspension.

     The sometimes overly righteous and moral New York Athletic Commission would be a
thorn in the side of Gilzenberg and many other promoters for decades. The members
were not pleased with the outcome of the October 6 bout and had tagged what they
believed to be a worthy punishment for Willie’s actions. Cochrane disagreed, remaining
loyal to the manager that had carried him for so long, and refused to fight again in New
York until Gilzenberg was reinstated. That meant he was withdrawing from a planned
Garden match on October 31 against “Sugar” Ray Robinson, and another good payday.

     Loyalty was a key word in the world of Willie Gilzenberg. His fighters were committed
to him almost to a fault, as he was to them, and that same sort of fondness was seen up
and down the line from establishments he frequented to the staff of the Laurel Gardens
or the Newark boxing office. To some degree, that also included the New Jersey State
Athletic (Boxing) Commission, of which he had strong ties to for over 50 years. There
was one particular employee that meant a little more to him than the average
commissioner or chairman. Lillian Lipkin was a secretary for the regulatory body, and
Willie’s wife as of 1930.

     Cochrane did what he felt was right, and stood by his manager and friend, much to
the chagrin of the New York commission. Before the end of the year, however, Freddie
did something almost as important as staying devoted to a close ally, he enlisted in the
United States Naval Reserve, becoming the first sitting champion to ever do so. The
maneuver was costly financially, forcing him to miss out on an estimated $100,000 in
bouts. While Cochrane worked as a instructor in Newport, Rhode Island, Gilzenberg had
an operation to remove a cyst from his spine, and was on convalescent leave from all
sports.

     Injuries suffered in a hit-and-run accident in Newport, which hospitalized him for 24
days, were blamed for Cochrane’s 10-round non-title loss to the Marine’s Garvey Young
in Boston in May 1942, but Freddie was prepared to return for a rematch with Zivic at the
Gardens in New York City on September 10. Zivic won that contest on points in 10
rounds, but not the title because it was not on the line. Two days later, he reported to
duty for transportation to Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, and continued to fulfill his military
obligations at a time of war.

     In the meantime, Gilzenberg assumed the contract of Tony “Two Ton” Galento in
1943. The two went on the road, traversing the country taking on all opponents,
including professional wrestlers, in what the National Boxing Association said was
“barnstorming.” Not thinking too highly of their actions, the NBA announced on June 23,
1943 that all Galento’s future matches would be labeled “exhibitions.” The organization’s
president Abe Greene, former New Jersey chairman and one of Willie’s pals, issued a
statement, saying in part: “Galento has been bouncing around the country, knocking out
a wrestler here, an old-timer there, a couple of share hands as an extra bargain. But
because the general impression has been that he was on a come back tour, an
unfavorable washback has resulted in those cities where he has played.”

     The Galento tour was successful, and he knocked out such wrestling luminaries as
Fred Blassie and Babe Sharkey. It was apparent that a serious run at the heavyweight
title was out of the realm of possibilities, and Galento’s weight climbed to upwards of 245
pounds. The wrestling audience, however, was impressed by his act, and wanted to see
more of him. Promoters around the country were ready to oblige, offering Galento jobs
as a special referee from California to New England. For Willie, the “barnstorming” meant
income, and professional wrestling seemed to be a natural step.

     On the boxing front, Gilzenberg aided the careers of Benny Leonard, Mickey Walker,
Bob Olin and managed the likes of Larry Lane of Trenton and Freddie Fiduci of Newark.
In September 1945, he once again met the long arm of the New York Athletic Commission
law. The body suspended him and Fiduci both for 60 days for failing to report a bribe
attempt prior to the latter’s Madison Square Garden bout with Fred Schott. In January
1946, negotiations for “Red” Cochrane’s first World Welterweight Title defense were
made against Al Weill’s product Marty Servo at the Garden on February 1. In the fourth
round, Freddie was knocked out, losing the championship, but earning a purported
$50,000 guarantee. That bout effectively ended his career.

     Willie’s traveling days were seemingly over. He resumed operations with Babe
Culnan at Laurel Sports Activities, Inc. and tried to sign the biggest fights possible for
area arenas. However, by the summer of 1947, he was back on the road with Galento,
which was not so surprising, this time as the manager of a full-time pro wrestler. Galento,
Willie hoped, would earn like ex-heavyweight champion Primo Carnera had been, but was
somewhat disappointed in that respect. The two did do well financially, making
appearances around North America, and drawing some success.

     In an article written by Oscar Fraley, sent to newspapers near and far along the
United Press wire on January 14, 1949, Galento spoke about his wrestling career: “I
been beatin’ all these guys who call themselves world champions. Guys like Orville
Brown, Marvin Westenberg, Herman Rhode, who also calls himself ‘Nature Boy,” and
Rudy Dusek. In over 125 bouts I never been pinned.” Galento’s gimmick on the mat was
of pure entertainment value to promoters, and he was never in a place to capture a major
claim to the wrestling championship.

     While Willie continued to prosper in all avenues of athletic promotions, he suffered a
serious family tragedy that might have crippled the normal man. The Gilzenbergs resided
in Irvington prior to moving to Vailsburg in 1944, where their young son Harold Michael
went to Alexander Street School and then Irvington High until his graduation in June
1950. Less than a week after Harold celebrated his 18th birthday on June 29, he was
killed in an automobile accident at Route 6 and Changebridge road in Montville, New
Jersey. His funeral was attended by dignitaries from throughout the sports world with
everyone paying their respects to the Gilzenbergs.

     Willing to settle for the peace and quiet back in Newark for several years, Willie
emboldened himself again, branching out to become the “director” for Tex Sullivan’s
London Sporting Club, a boxing unit, in New York City. He and his wife had a daughter,
named Holly Paula, and “Gillie” prepared to handle business objectives a little closer to
home. His days of catching planes, trains, and automobiles to towns of all shapes and
sizes with a prized wrestler or fighter were over.

     Beginning on May 17, 1954, the Manhattan outfit ran every Monday for 93 straight
weeks from the St. Nichols Arena, and had television coverage across the DuMont
network. A “trust-buster” of sorts, Julius Helfand, chairman of the New York Athletic
Commission, targeted boxing in December 1955 with the intentions of weeding out the
criminal element that was controlling the sport. The first move he made was a promise to
suspend the licenses of any manager affiliated with the mighty Boxing Managers Guild
after January 16, claiming that the group had knowingly operated with reputed crime
figures, specifically Frankie Carbo.

     When it was made known that instead of following the new guidelines, the honchos
behind the London Sports Club were going to move their Monday night boxing program
from St. Nichols to an arena in Baltimore, Helfand became very interested in the motives.
He openly claimed that Baltimore was being run by gangsters, and questioned the
integrity of both Gilzenberg and Sullivan.

     Hefland was quoted as saying: “I intend to find out if Willie Gilzenberg and Tex
Sullivan have been in violation of the law forbidding association with known criminals such
as [Benny] Magliano (Benny Trotta) and his partner, Angelo Munafo, and through them
with the boss of both, Mr. Carbo. If the facts indicate, the commission will take
disciplinary action, looking to a revocation of their licenses.”

     Boxing managers and promoters were scrambling to pick up the pieces, but it seemed
apparent that Hefland was going to make an example out of the two promoters. The New
York Commission, which had proven to be obstinate and occasionally unfair, had eight
charges against Willie and Sullivan, and established a hearing date to weed through the
evidence. The board’s inquiry occurred on January 24, 1956, but only Sullivan appeared
to make his case. Gilzenberg sent his resignation from the London Sports Club the day
prior, and sold all interest, but Hefland was not going to let the former fight manager off
the hook that easy. After a month’s deliberation, the New York Commission suspended
Gilzenberg (treasurer) and Sullivan’s (matchmaker) licenses indefinitely, and fined Willie
$5,000.

     The New Jersey Boxing Commission had a different point of view on the situation, and
boldly refused to follow suit. Commissioner Joseph Walker issued a statement regarding
Gilzenberg’s status in the “Garden State,” saying: “In consideration of twenty-four years
of operation of the Laurel Sports Club and your record in New Jersey of thirty-seven
years as a licensee of this commission, free of any suspensions, I therefore approve of
you as a licensee of this commission and also approve of the continued operation of the
Laurel Sports Club.”

     Remarking on the situation, Willie said: “It proves conclusively there is justice in New
Jersey. My plans are to continue in boxing in New Jersey.”

     Gilzenberg’s unwillingness to share information with the New York Commission may
have had a residual effect on the outcome of his portion of the investigation over and
above any particular finding. On the other hand, it was rumored that Willie’s muted tone
earned him great levels of respect with people on the other side of the law. However, just
maybe tattle-tailing on anyone, no matter their stature, wasn’t something he wanted to
do, especially before a board that seemed to have, for years, displayed some sort of
private animosity toward him.

     Right around the same time, Vincent McMahon, a wise Washington D.C. wrestling
promoter, obtained a prime television spot on Thursday nights in New York City. His
presence locally on the DuMont network opened the door for many new opportunities,
especially a place in the hierarchy of Madison Square Garden, the heart of the city.
Vince was the son of the late Roderick “Jess” McMahon, a prominent fistic promoter
going back to the days of Tex Rickard, and regarded as one of the brightest grappling
promoters in the east. Gaining exposure in New York City was a major accomplishment,
and instead of remaining confined inside the Beltway, he now had an interest in the
largest, and most lucrative town in the United States.

     Despite the personal achievement, McMahon wasn’t immediately embraced by the
established tribe. Charley Johnston and his nephew Walter Smallshaw, who held the
license to promote grappling at the Garden, and Kola Kwariani, their matchmaker, had an
issue with the newcomer that wasn’t going to vanish with a handshake. Relinquishing
power on any level was something they wanted to avoid, but in this particular case,
McMahon’s TV seized it right out from under them. Added the fact that McMahon was a
proactive and intelligent businessman, there was no doubt he was going to manipulate
things positively. Vince was not going to waste the great opportunity laid at his feet by
the executives at DuMont.

     With his father now deceased and his primary residence in Washington, McMahon
sought allies in the New York area that could assist in the day-to-day operations. His
initial move was to partner up with the city’s most famous matchmaker Joe “Toots” Mondt,
a controversial, but bright former wrestler. Mondt was a skilled and complicated man with
a vast reputation. Harboring great financial and gambling problems, “Toots” always
found himself in the thick of things despite his active involvement in extra-curricular
spending. Also considered an outsider to the Johnston clique, Mondt was the perfect
colleague under the circumstances, but there was never a dull moment.

     The formation of the Capitol Wrestling Corporation was next, occurring on August 5,
1957, and was initially made up of McMahon, Mondt, Phil Zacko, and Johnny Doyle. In
the years that followed, the shareholders traded stock and positions, but there was little
question who the leader was. McMahon watched his empire slowly grow, using his
television exposure to enrapture fans from Maine to Virginia. Outgoing and very
personable, he would edge into Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Detroit, and Chicago, and had
talent sharing agreements with the members of the National Wrestling Alliance. McMahon’
s success was adding up very quickly, but there was constant aggravation and a sense
of mistrust in the New York office, where the heart of Capitol beat just under the mat of
Madison Square Garden. That’s were Willie Gilzenberg came in.

     Gilzenberg’s relationship to McMahon grew from passing acquaintance to a vital
component in the Capitol system. More or less, Willie became the northern
representative of McMahon’s interests, a trusted friend that would preserve the integrity
of their operations in the face of any spiteful maneuvering. McMahon called the shots,
but slickly evaded most of the constant heat and backstabbing that occupied just about
everyone involved with wrestling in New York City. He called upon Gilzenberg to act as
sort of a mediator when difficulties arose among the principals, especially those involving
Mondt.

     The manipulation of talent was probably the main quandary facing the different
individuals, and in the late 1950s and early 1960s, most of the open discussion revolved
around Antonino “Argentina” Rocca. Rocca was the most popular figure in New York,
transcending the business in many ways, and his appearances, from National Guard
Armories to the Garden, were always an event to behold. His numbers at the Garden
were astonishing, and one didn’t have to wonder why everyone involved with the precious
arena were scrambling to preserve their piece of the pie. And especially the man who
controlled Rocca, absolutely had the power.

     In one of wrestling’s biggest bombshells in years, McMahon obtained the contract of
Rocca, and legend has it that soon thereafter Johnston, Smallshaw and even Mondt
bestowed the unconditional title of “boss” to him. New York remained pressurized, and
the struggle to present programs that fans were eager for continued. In a stark contrast
to others in the territory, McMahon’s intelligence was demonstrated time and time again
when it came to utilizing talent from sharing agreements with promoters in places like Los
Angeles, Miami, Montreal, and Toronto.

     Gilzenberg was a beneficiary of the same talent pool and his faithful responded
month in and month out at venues in Newark, Jersey City, Paterson or Elizabeth. He
ballyhooed with the best of them and audiences witnessed some of the wildest action this
side of the Mississippi. One night at the Laurel Garden, Willie joined grapplers Rocca,
Baron Gattoni and The Zebra Kid in the ring as a singles bout between the first two
quickly morphed into a three way dance. To gain the upper hand, the fleet footed Rocca
began launching dropkicks. Caught in the crossfire, Gilzenberg himself was sent flying
into the ring ropes and down to the mat.

     Afterward, Gilzenberg said: “This morning, my daughter Holly wanted to play horse
with me. I told her I couldn’t because I’d been dropkicked. Now even she knows wrestling
is on the level.”

     On a personal level, Willie never tried to exceed his own authority or expand over the
back of any of his associates. His past experiences in Manhattan and with the New York
Athletic Commission were enough to give anyone heartache, but he watched the
progression of business there closely. He stepped in when it was essential and provided
McMahon some of the best council found anywhere in sports.

     A review of the letters written by Gilzenberg to the famous nomad promoter Jack
Pfefer held by the Special Collections Department at the University of Notre Dame
reveals some potent information regarding the wrestling scene in New York City. As
noted earlier, the atmosphere was constantly shaky with heavy personalities and sharp
egos. Reading the letters, one would get the sense that the entire Garden wrestling
business could snap in two in a split second. Despite the harsh conditions, Gilzenberg
never lost faith in McMahon, and expressed his confidence and allegiance to him
regularly:

June 25, 1960 – Gilzenberg wrote:

“You say you wish you had brains like me to take care of yourself – Jack, you have
enough brains for both of us. You are only kidding Jack Pfefer taking or choosing the
side you are on. It won’t take but seconds for your team to remove or farm you out – with
or without your money. They’ve done it before and will do it again, gleefully. At least,
Vince McMahon, who is my type MAN, didn’t stab you in the back – he only did what any
business man would have to do when he was told your men were working in clubs he didn’
t book.

“Jack – I have told you this time and again – I won’t be afraid to tell this to the world – and
this is NOT confidential – the first time Vince McMahon is hurt by anyone connected with
the New York Office --- and that goes for anyone – I will step in and make – ‘em holler
“Uncle.”

“This is no threat. I have the tools or ammunition to do it with.

“Because, should Vince get hurt – that means Babe and I will suffer, as well. We are both
very definitely on his ball (Vince’s) team.

July 7, 1960 – Gilzenberg wrote:

“I feel badly about the ‘stealing’ of Bruno Sammartino – I only wish I was involved – the
thief would wish a thousand times he’d have left the boy alone. I will sink with Vince
McMahon, if necessary, whom I consider the nicest man I ever dealt with in wrestling.
And, he will win in a walk. If he feels he is losing the battle – all he need do is send for
me and I’ll take care of many a bloke. Most important, I am able, willing and have the
necessary material to do the job. And, I won’t worry who gets hurt in the interim.”

     Even the toughest and most skilled diplomats needed a break from the constant
haggling, and Gilzenberg disappeared from the angst of New York for greener pastures
in Miami Beach. Despite the relocation, he maintained his partnership with Culnan and
McMahon, and refused to retire. He had many great years ahead of him, but Miami did
offer a unique new enterprises, and Gilzenberg was quick to size up the city for possible
ventures. The town was “owned” and booked by Cowboy Luttrall of Tampa and, in 1959,
was seeing the budding of a promotional war with Chris Dundee and Al Ritchie striving for
position.

     Trying to find a spot of his own in between the varying personalities, Gilzenberg
found that it was better to be in support of Ritchie or Dundee rather than battle to start
his own promotion. The easing of tensions in Florida only helped trade talent from New
York to Tampa or Miami, and allowed certain wrestlers to wheel back and forth on a
regular basis, which was great for their wallets. Once again, Gilzenberg’s gift to negotiate
settled a potential conflict, and opened the door for positive business.

     McMahon’s ability to use television to market future wrestling events was
revolutionary, and helped every single promoter that he booked talent to from spot shows
in Virginia to clubs throughout New Jersey and New York. In 1959, he opened up a
second TV outlet into New York City, this one from Bridgeport, Connecticut, and if fans
weren’t already being influenced by the shenanigans out of Washington, maybe the
second offering would lasso them into the wild wrestling world. It was a smart move, one
that paid impressive dividends.

     The importation of Buddy Rogers in 1960 was looked at by some as a risk, but
McMahon knew what he was doing. A “proper” exploitation of the blond haired heel
boosted sales around the territory, and at the time of the annual NWA convention,
McMahon and “Toots” Mondt made a pitch selling the positive aspects of having Buddy
as the national touring world heavyweight champion. Their proposal was successful, and
Gilzenberg was instrumental in the massive publicity campaign to get the “Nature Boy”
over throughout Capitol territory. Finally, on June 30, 1961, Rogers beat Pat O’Connor
for the championship in Chicago, and a new era under a heel titleholder was launched.

     On Saturday, March 24, 1962, Gilzenberg and Babe Culnan celebrated their 30th
anniversary with a program at the Newark Armory. Several months later, the duo brought
in world champion Rogers for a bout with Bobo Brazil. The affair drew better than 6,100
fans and ended in controversy with Brazil winning by countout with Rogers laid out in the
middle of the ring. Fans celebrated as Bobo was given the victory and apparently the
championship. Little did the audience know at the time that the title hadn’t changed
hands, but most certainly sold thousands of tickets for the highly anticipated rematch.
Gilzenberg and Culnan knew what they were doing and the Newark finish was compelling
enough to bring their customers back for another round of high impact drama.

     Culnan passed away at his home on November 11, 1962 and ended the Culnan-
Gilzenberg era. “I recall that Newark had at least one boxing and wrestling card every
week for more than 50 years,” Willie recalled. “The late Babe Culnan and I promoted
without a stop for 33 years, outdoors at the defunct Meadowbrook Bowl on South Orange
Ave., and indoors at Laurel Garden, now a public parking lot.”

     In New York City, Chicago, Newark, and many other affiliated towns, Buddy Rogers
drew astonishing crowds and earned bundles of money for the syndicate. His reign met a
certain degree of expectations within the NWA, but on a whole, exemplified success. By
1963, after much controversy, belly-aching, and speculation, the Alliance requested their
championship back and sent the renown shooter Lou Thesz to regain the strap. In
Toronto on January 24, Thesz won a single fall and walked away the NWA World
Champion. Buddy, however, returned to the northeast as a title claimant.

     McMahon had a new vision for his expansive territory, one that varied greatly from
the NWA and one that could have dramatic implications. The formation of an
independent sanctioning body would give credence to a new title lineage and only
strengthen the body of promoters McMahon was already sending wrestlers to. Mondt,
Zacko, and Gilzenberg all heeded the decision of their wise commander, and the World
Wide Wrestling Federation was born.

     As repayment for his loyalty, Gilzenberg was named WWWF President and his offices
in Newark were regarded as the organization’s headquarters, despite most decisions
being made from Washington’s Franklin Park Hotel. Willie was responsible, once again,
for playing politics among promoters, and assisting McMahon in his endeavors in New
York City, specifically the management of northern promotions and television operations.
Mondt’s dedication wavered as he aged and his times was split among a series of
hobbies outside of wrestling, some a bit more caustic than others. While Mondt spent
time on leisure, Gilzenberg fulfilled many necessary duties at the top of the budding
WWWF.

     Madison Square Garden thrived under Buddy Rogers’s replacement as heavyweight
champion, Bruno Sammartino, from 1963 to 1971. Hot feuds, strong angles, and
excellent advertising maintained the conglomerate’s status as the strongest promotion in
the United States, but McMahon and Gilzenberg did face some down periods. On August
13, 1967, Capitol’s lone program into New York City on WOR was cancelled, and, without
TV, the subsequent Garden show drew only 6,612 fans. The numbers were horrible and
McMahon needed an outlet in the market if he wanted to continue monthly shows at the
famed arena.

     The always proactive Gilzenberg went to work on his end, calling an old employee
named Fred Sayles, now a program director of the ultra high frequency station WNJU-TV
(channel 47) out of Newark. His connection to Sayles got wrestling a spot on Saturdays
at 7:00 p.m., reintroducing their grappling from Washington into New York. The television
publicity was exactly what they needed and attendance rebounded altogether. Again,
Gilzenberg’s value to McMahon as an associate and friend was priceless.

     By the early 1970s, Gilzenberg’s presence at the Garden was expected and his
pacifistic attitude quelled many brewing conflicts. He worked closely with the New York
State Athletic Commission for more than 15 years without as much as a peep about his
ethics or obligations to the uphold the integrity of professional sports. It only reassured
those who looked at his record that his difficulties with certain members of the New York
Commission years earlier had been nothing more than a personal grudge. Willie was not
going to be bullied by anyone, nor was he going to lay down and accept a scapegoat role
by a politically motivated commissioner, whose interests were unusually far from any
boxing or wrestling ring.

     As mentioned earlier, Gilzenberg was loyal to the people around him, and received
the same kind of respect in return. His bond to McMahon was extraordinary and their
give and take relationship resulted in a world class operation that was admired by their
peers in the industry. There are likely dozens, if not hundreds, of examples of how the
Gilzenberg-McMahon collaboration benefited their promotional efforts, details that only
occurred between two allies in business together, that no one will ever know. This
biography only serves as a simple illustration of their partnership and a reminder of
Gilzenberg’s place in the history of the WWE.

     Longtime wrestling fan Bob Sand recalled what he saw as a youthful spectator of
Gilzenberg’s programs in the late 1950s and ’60s:

     “Willie was an intelligent, charming guy who'd always remember my mother's and
sister's and my first names, after that night, and who, on subsequent nights, always
delegated one of his employees to escort us to the metal folding chairs that served as
our ringside seats. One of the things I remember about Willie was that on wrestling night,
he always, without fail, stood in the front lobby of the arena and “greeted” his customers.
He always showed them respect, and, by doing so, always seemed to “elevate” the
occasion.

     “His clientele was, for the most part, comprised of people whose individual journeys
through life included a lot of things, not foremost among which was respect from others.
I'll never forget Willie for that; in those fleeting moments out in the cold, wet lobby of the
Jersey City or Newark or Teaneck Armory, he brought dignity to lives which, for the most
part, had enjoyed very little of same.”

     William Gilzenberg was extremely appreciated for his contributions as both a
promoter and humanitarian. He was respected by the wrestlers that worked for him, the
fans that attended his shows, and by the citizens of New Jersey that embraced his
concepts for entertainment. He was a responsible advisor and associate of Vince
McMahon for more than 20 years, and his knowledge of all sides of promotions gave the
WWWF a distinct advantage over all counterparts in the business. McMahon also knew
he always had a partner he could depend on, especially when situations got hot. A
reliable friend in professional wrestling was sometimes hard to find.

     On September 25, 1978, Willie became ill after leaving his Newark office en route to a
wrestling show at Madison Square Garden, and was taken to a local hospital, where
surgery was performed. He passed away of cancer in Miami on November 15, leaving his
wife Lillian and daughter Holly.

     Known for his strong sense of humor, Gilzenberg’s funeral was attended by scores of
his old friends, people he did business with, and by individuals who all had a story of the
famed promoter. His influence was left behind in many ways as was a strong, but
unseen, connection to World Wrestling Entertainment, a promotion that harbors the
incredible history set in stone by Vincent James McMahon and William Louis Gilzenberg.

     Gilzenberg’s induction into the WWE Hall of Fame pays homage to years of
dedication and commitment to the organization. Honoring the celebrated promoter and
15 year WWWF President would acknowledge his legacy and enlighten current fans to
another major cog in the formation of the WWE. Inducting Willie Gilzenberg into the
WWE Hall of Fame would mean a lot to his family, friends, and the fans who remember
old time professional grappling in Northeastern New Jersey and at Madison Square
Garden in New York City.

What Are the Facts about Willie Gilzenberg:

·        As a promoter of wrestling and boxing, over a 50-plus year period in Northeastern
New Jersey, Gilzenberg drew millions of fans to exciting programs. His brand of
entertainment was always money well spent and his regular customers received a level of
professionalism unparalleled in sports.

·        Gilzenberg presented thousands of hours of original boxing and wrestling on
television throughout the New York City area

·        Established new records in terms of attendance and house gates throughout his
territory

·        Regularly held benefits for local groups and fundraisers in conjunction with his
wrestling shows, donating vast amounts of money to charity.

·        Was the first ever World Wide Wrestling Federation President in 1963 and
remained in that position through 1978, setting a measurable standard for all following to
emulate.

·        Had his license to promote renewed by the New Jersey Boxing Commission 50
consecutive years.

·        Was honored by the New Jersey Boxing Writers Association in January 1959 for
Meritorious Service to New Jersey Boxing during 1958

·        Was honored by the Boys Club of Newark in Recognition of Meritorious Service and
unselfish devotion in advancing the cause of American Youth in April 1959

·        Was honored by the Veterans Boxers Association, Ring 25, in February 1966, and
brought WWWF champion Bruno Sammartino to be his “personal sergeant-at-arms”
More than 800 guests paid tribute including New Jersey Governor Richard Hughes, Jack
Dempsey, Rocky Marciano, Jimmy Braddock, Tony Galento, Rocky Graziano, Red
Cochrane, Barney Ross, Mickey Walker, and Joe Walcott. Congratulations via telegrams
were received from Phil Zacko and Herb Freeman out of the Capitol office in Washington,
Ray Fabiani in Philadelphia, Ace Freeman and Rudy Miller in Pittsburgh, Chester O’
Sullivan – Maryland State Athletic Commission Chairman, Fritzie Zivic – who said “I’ll
never forgive you for stealing my title. Seriously, congratulations,” Goldie Ahearne, the
Dundees of Miami Beach, and many others

·        Was honored by the Old Time Boxers Association in May 1971 for his contributions
to professional boxing throughout his career

·        Was honored by Unico National for Distinguished Service in the Field of Mental
Health Research Fund Raising in November 1975

·        Was honored by the Veterans Boxing Social Club, posthumously, on December 2,
1978 in Belleville, NJ.

·        Was called the “Maker of Boxing Champions” and New Jersey’s “One and Only
Sports Promoter.”

·        Proved over and over to be a outstanding matchmaker, fulfilling the desires of
wrestling and boxing fans with the best possible matches.

In 2010, Willie Gilzenberg will be inducted into the New Jersey Boxing Hall of Fame - an
honor well deserved.

Copyright 2010 Tim Hornbaker

Willie Gilzenberg Biography