Nov-11-2008
Real Fighter Magazine - Starting a Fight
Starting a Fight
Fifteen years after they took the gloves off to revolutionize combat sports, athletes and organizers remember the first Ultimate Fighting Championship
By Jake Rossen
If you’re in the mood for birthing an international phenomenon, there are probably sexier places to nest than Denver in the winter. It’s cold—minus twenty below or worse is on record—the altitude constricts lungs, and the only cutting-edge culture is what’s growing on the outdated yogurt.
But it was precisely Denver’s lack of polish—no athletic commission to intervene, plenty of limited liability coverage—that led a group of nervous athletes and even more nervous financiers to convene there on November 12, 1993, for a bizarre pay per view curiosity with a sensationally overcooked title: the Ultimate Fighting Championship.
Violent and raw, the UFC took eight practitioners of disparate martial arts and watched as they galvanized a skeptical stateside audience. Blood flowed, bones cracked, and the frailest-looking participant earned respect for his art in the most visceral way possible: by squeezing the wind out of both his opponents and traditional beliefs about self-defense.
In honor of the promotion’s 15th anniversary, the participants and deal brokers of the inaugural UFC spoke to Real Fighter magazine and remembered the jitters, the posturing and the flying teeth—all in their own words, all of which conspired to transform how American culture viewed martial arts forever.
Believing the American public would be infatuated with his family’s appendage-torquing martial art of jiu-jitsu, Rorion Gracie imported himself to California in 1978, dabbling in film industry work and teaching out of his garage; he gained some small measure of notoriety with a 1989 Playboy profile, titled “BAD,” which helped stir a growing subculture of grappling and documented his eagerness to prove his skills in a real fight.
When Gracie moved his classes to a Torrance, California dojo in the late 1980s, one of his first students was Art Davie, an ad man who was mesmerized both by Gracie’s taped challenge matches and the idea of pitting contrasting styles against one another.
Art Davie: I was in the Marines with some friends who had taken an R&R in Thailand and they had seen a mixed match in a Thai night club. It was between a Thai boxer and an Indian wrestler. They told me about it. It was the type of topic we had often talked about—could Bruce Lee beat Sugar Ray Robinson?
Rorion Gracie: Over the years, I always had people coming to my garage to fight. That happened almost as soon as I got to America. I would invite my students to watch and they loved it. A real fight in a garage on a Friday night? Of course they want to see that.
“Big” John McCarthy (Gracie student and future UFC referee): It wasn’t as frequent as they make it out to be.I had a couple of them.Usually I’d take them everybody down and choke them and that was it.
I did one at the Los Angeles Police Academy. We had a martial arts review panel because of the Rodney King thing. A dorky dude was throwing this guy around and saying he could do all these things. He asked if we wanted to try. I mounted and slapped him in the face and said, “Now what are you going to do?”
Royce Gracie: I would fight the opponent, never hurt them, just submit them nicely. So they kind of get up and go, “Okay, let’s do it again. Can I do it again? I want another chance.” So we went two or three times.
McCarthy: If they wanted to try again, Rorion would go to you and say, “Hit him hard. Hurt him.” That was their way of looking at you and saying that you didn’t believe.
Davie: Rorion had done this videotape called “Gracies in Action,” which showed some of the mixed-style fights his family had done. I volunteered to do a direct-mail base for him. He didn’t know what it was, but I convinced him to do it. He had 25,000 names in a database he had collected over the months and years. We did a mailing list and grossed over $100,000. So then I had credibility with him.
Rorion Gracie: We talked about doing a show that we’d set up in a small school in Torrance, but we decided to go for something bigger that would touch everybody. I thought it would be a great idea to put it on TV. We’ve had shows like this in Brazil for thirty years. It’s nothing new.
Davie: I wrote up a 65-page business plan and made a presentation to Rorion’s students, family and friends. We were able to raise a quarter of a million dollars.
Flush with capital, Davie amalgamated himself with Gracie to create W.O.W. Promotions and took their idea for a sixteen-man (later pared down to eight) anything-goes tournament to HBO, Showtime, and content provider Semaphore Entertainment Group (SEG). The former two dubbing the idea “crazy,” only SEG showed any valid interest. Davie and Gracie entered into a equitable partnership with the company, where W.O.W. would be responsible for the costs of the live event and SEG would foot the bill for the telecast.
Davie: Originally, the show was scheduled for October 31, Halloween, in a facility in Brazil, but there were tremendous logistical problems. I had done research and found out the only state that didn’t have a boxing commission and had no rules on the books prohibiting bare-knuckle fighting was Colorado. It was also one of the few states that had a limited liability structure. I had gone up to Denver, incorporated us, got an attorney, and the first fighter I actually signed was Pat Smith.
Patrick Smith: Davie came and watched me fight in one of the Sabake Challenges, bare-knuckle stand-up, in Denver. I wanted to go ahead and do it, but my girlfriend at the time was like, “No, no, we don’t want him doing that, that’s too dangerous.” I signed up three days later.
Me and [fellow UFC entrant] Gerard Gordeau were pretty good friends. We fought in K-1 a lot over in Japan.
Davie: Gordeau came out of the same school that Ernesto Hoost came from—I couldn’t afford Hoost. But I knew who Gordeau was, and I knew he was going to be devastating.
Gerard Gordeau: I was a Savate champion in Europe. Because I am a high kicker, they take me. I don’t look for [street fights], but if the people want it, they get it.
Davie: I had recruited Ken Shamrock because [his student] Scott Bessac had sent in an application. In talking to him, I realized that the guy I really wanted was his teacher.
Ken Shamrock: I never thought the event would happen. I thought somewhere along the line there was going to be a gimmick.
Zane Frazier: Pro karate tournaments in California are unlike anywhere else: it looks more like street fighting than it does karate or kickboxing.I was fighting in the Long Beach International, and there was a fighter I basically got into a street fight with. I wound up taking him to the ground with a sweep and stomping him. Rorion put his arm around me and said, “Hey, I like you, kid! You can fight!”
Taylor Wily (formerly Teila Tuli): They were looking to see if any Sumo wrestlers wanted to get into it. Four days before I left for Denver, I broke a knuckle in a street fight. It was 8 on 1.
Davie: The guy that was the biggest disappointment that I recruited off of videotapes was Kevin Rosier. I thought he was going to come in around 265 pounds. He showed up and weighed 320 pounds. He looked like two people inside of a fat suit.
Kevin Rosier: I was the ISKA kickboxing champ for 13 years and nobody would fight me. I was doing underground fights in San Francisco, Chinatown, bare-knuckle tournaments in New York City back in the ‘80s. It was a great chance to see my daughter in Colorado.
Davie: I approached Don Wilson, who turned us down. I approached Dennis Alexio.I had reached out to the people at WCW, talking to them about Meng, a big Samoan, who I understood could fight. All the other wrestlers were legitimately afraid of him. They didn’t want him to do this type of thing.
Rorion Gracie: We talked to everybody we could, [former WBA heavyweight boxing champion] James “Bonecrusher” Smith, all those guys. I think we talked to [Maurice Smith]. He called me one time after the UFC congratulating me for the amazing stuff he got from our videotapes and how much he learned.
Jason DeLucia (alternate): I wanted to be in the tournament. But they said, “You need a title.” They wanted me to embellish a title, to come up with something. I said, “I won’t do it.” So they didn’t put me in the tournament.
Art Jimmerson: They needed a boxer [and] I was ranked in the top ten light-heavyweights in boxing. “Street Fighter” was one of the biggest video games out at the time, and my kids loved it. I did verbally commit, [but] came back after I found out what was happening and backed out. They said, “Well, you already verbally committed. Your name is on a poster, we’re promoting you. We’re going to sue you.”
Davie: Jimmerson was given a flat amount of money—$17,000. He had a pretty sharp attorney and we did a lot of negotiating.
Jimmerson: They gave me like quadruple what they gave everybody else.They told me I would have the lightest guy in the tournament.
The “lightest guy” was Rorion’s brother Royce, a lanky 27-year-old practically swallowed by his stiff white Gi; he stood in sharp contrast to sibling Rickson, a notorious figure in Brazil and widely regarded to be the most dangerous living Gracie.
Davie: Rorion had a falling out with Rickson over teaching people privately at his house rather than over at the Academy. After that, Rorion and Rickson hardly ever talked. Rorion said he would put Royce in, but not Rickson. And we argued about that.
McCarthy: I had put in my application for it. Rorion said, “What are you doing? You can’t fight. You’re with us. When Royce is done, we’ll put you in there.”
McCarthy: Rickson was training Royce and was there for him. He was in a seriously pissed-off mood towards Rorion. Rorion took his thunder. Rorion took his ability to showcase who he was. Rickson was the best fighter by far of the brothers. There was no comparison. He had to step back and let Royce do it.
Davie: Rorion knew Chuck Norris well enough that he and I went over there one night and approached him about being a commentator. We’d talk to him for five or ten minutes, all excited about it. And all I remember was that Chuck Norris kept saying, “Is this legal? Is this legal?” We couldn’t even to get him to come and sit ringside.
With co-conspirator, film director and fellow student John Milius, Davie and Gracie searched for a ring construct that would contain the action.
Davie:We knew we weren’t going to do a boxing ring. Rorion had put some strong thoughts on paper about that, that people would roll out of the ring. He had seen that in Brazil.
Frazier: At the time, Rorion had said the surface was going to be gravel. Then it was going to be dirt, then it was going to be clay. Then he said mats, then grass. He said all these different things. We really didn’t know what it was going to be.
Royce Gracie: We’re gonna get into a fight in a cage, a ring, or the street…man, doesn’t make a difference. A fight’s a fight.
Rorion Gracie: We thought of a ring that had a moat and we could put alligators on the outside, [or] chariots running around the ring and dropping the fighters off. Then people with trumpets and Roman togas announcing them. This is Hollywood.
Davie: Semaphore and I found a company in L.A. We literally gave them a checklist and had an ongoing dialogue back and forth. Their people made, creatively, 75% of the final design.
While the fencing company realized the more pragmatic Octagon schematic, fighters debated how best to survive in a prizefight with virtually no restrictions. Gouging, groin strikes and biting were prohibited, but infractions would only result in a fine, not a disqualification.
Royce Gracie: That’s one of the things I brought up to my brothers, “What if the guy cheats? There’s no punishment.” If the guy bites, and I cannot continue, he wins.
Gordeau: No rules are no rules.
Frazier: Richard Norton, Howard Jackson, Chuck Norris, all of those guys were all friends. They had told me, “Hey, Zane, go train with the Machado brothers.” The Machados wouldn’t train me, but some of the students I had known who had trained with Gene LeBell gave a preview of what the Gracies were like and what they were going to try and do.
Rosier: I took the fight even though I was way overweight [and] way out of shape. I had a school next to a McDonald’s.
Jimmerson: I had fought Don “the Dragon” Wilson, karate vs. boxing rules. They said he was only allowed so many kicks per round. The way it went, he overdid it. They stopped the fight in the fifth round because my legs were done.
[PKA kickboxing champion] Earnest Hart had me trying to learn certain blocks, but I was like, “Man, I can’t learn this stuff in six weeks. I’m just going to go out there and do what I can do.”
Wily: Being retired from Sumo and not really in the best of shape, I just started running the beach. I started wrestling and got back into boxing. I did mostly a lot of running, stretching, and meditating. I dropped a lot of weight.
Trent Jenkins (alternate): I told my mother and told her not to tell anybody else. She was going to go to a funeral of her cousin. She actually canceled the trip in case I needed to go to the hospital or something like that.
Frazier: There’s a place in Los Angeles called Athens Park. This is where the Crips and all the different gangs get together. On Friday night, they have street fight night. That’s how I prepared for UFC 1. I fought guys on concrete with my shirt off. I didn’t know if we’d be on concrete. The big scratch on my left shoulder, that’s where it came from.
Davie: I remember picking up Tuli at the airport and driving him back myself. He was nervously asking me about the other fighters, the fighting surface and so on. Everybody felt like they were off in deep space.
The week of the show, fighters descended into Denver from all corners of the map. McCarthy’s wife, who was in charge of travel arrangements, was told to book them on separate floors of the hotel to avoid confrontations. It didn’t quite work.
Davie: There was a lot of posturing down in the lobby. I would get reports on the walkie-talkie from security down there that the Samoans with Tuli were having face-offs, staring matches with the Brazilians.
Frazier: I saw Ken Shamrock. He was all bundled up and I couldn’t see his physique or anything. He said, “My name’s Ken Shamrock.” I said, “So f-cking what? I’m going to kick your f-cking ass. You’re going to leave here in a body bag.” And that’s how I was to everybody.
Shamrock: Frazier would’ve never gotten in my face, because at that time, I would’ve knocked his ass out. I didn’t have the control I have now.
Frazier: I remember Ken taking off his shirt a couple days later and saw how buff and yoked he was. I said, “Oh, sh-t! This guy would’ve twisted me up!” My heart came through my throat.
Davie: Shamrock was nervous. He kept thinking up until that week that maybe it was going to be a partial “work.”
Shamrock: I went over to Japan and fought [in Pancrase] and then went to Denver four days later because I didn’t think it was going to be a real fight. I already had it set in my mind that I was going to break somebody’s leg [regardless]. They were going to tell me to go in there and put somebody over and I’d have said “yes” and then went in and broke the guy’s leg.
Frazier: Kevin Rosier made himself scarce in this big overcoat. He ate his way to up 300 pounds.
Rosier: I was about 340 pounds. I was having cake and ice cream.
Frazier: Rorion Gracie said, out of his own mouth to my ears, “If you kill your opponent, it’s legal.” That’s what he told us. And that’s what we went into. I didn’t have any care in the world. My wife had power of attorney. I put all my assets in her name. If I died in the ring, I didn’t care.
Wily: One of my older cousins had passed away that week. Rorion said, “You have to put this past you. When you cry, you lose a lot of energy.” I was like, “Man, it’s too late. I’ve been crying all week.”
Davie: Jimmerson was hearing his arm was going to get broken by a grappler. He appeared to be the most nervous of all.
McCarthy: Jimmerson said, “How in the world do you think Royce is going to beat me when I’m flicking out a jab? He can’t get past that.” We went into a back ballroom area and I grabbed him in a double leg and put him on the ground. He looked up at me and said, “Oh, my God. He’s going to break my arms and legs, isn’t he?”
Friday’s bouts almost began prematurely when Frazier and his handlers caused a stir at the rules meeting in the Brahms conference room of Denver’s Executive Tower Inn—they believed Rorion was stacking the deck in favor of his brother by not allowing strikers to wrap their knuckles.
Davie: Several people came up to me during that week in Denver and said that Zane was talking about conspiracies lurking everywhere. He made a big thing about groin shots and hand wraps.
Frazier: Rorion and I got into a huge, huge argument. I told him, “You’re changing the rules to set this up for your brother.” I said, “Guys, do you know he owns half of this? He owns half the show!” Everybody goes, “What?” I said, “He’s setting this up for his brother and changing the rules so we go on national TV and look like idiots.”
Rorion Gracie: If you’re in a fight on the street, are you going to go run home and wrap your hand?
Shamrock: Royce had preferential treatment, but if it was my brother putting it on, I’d expect the same. I didn’t care. It’s a fight. There’s nothing his brother can do for him when the fight is going on.
Jenkins: Jason and I were the only ones who understood. I guess we were the only ones who read the contract.
DeLucia: Rickson was saying something and he stood up when he said it. And all I thought was, “The next thing that happens is going to be either very good or very bad.”
Frazier: I charged Rorion and all the Gracies and Brazilians jumped up.
Rorion Gracie: What, like he was going to attack me? Give me a break. Never happened.
Frazier: I got in Rickson’s face. I said, “Me and you can go right now.”
Rosier: It was hilarious. All the guys were going over the tape and everything else. I was just sitting back, on my medication. I had a root canal that day. An abscess blew up.
McCarthy: They put papers down in front of them and it was basically a release of liability exempting W.O.W. and SEG from any responsibility if anyone got hurt. A lot of those guys didn’t want to sign that thing.
Wily: I just signed my paper. The whole room got quiet. I turned to them and said, “Hey, I don’t know about you guys, but I came here to fight. If anyone came here to party, I’ll see you tomorrow night at the arena.”
Jenkins: All the Gracies gave him a standing ovation.
Gordeau: I sign the paper and I go. The rest stayed there to explain what is allowed and what is not allowed. Real Americans, they talk a lot. But if you have no rules, you are finished explaining in two seconds.
The rules meeting wasn’t the only source of stress for organizers that week. Davie’s woes extended to the broadcast—football legend Jim Brown, who had been slotted in as play-by-play announcer, decided at the last minute he didn’t want to do it, forcing Bill “Superfoot” Wallace into the lead broadcast position—and the local promotion of the show.
Davie:We hired Barry Fey, a well-known rock promoter. Fey guaranteed us a certain amount of money based upon what he thought the event would do. It was a $25,000 advance. By Thursday at noon, I don’t have the money. I mentioned to Rorion I was having some trouble. Rorion said, “Should we send somebody over?” He got Rickson and two other Brazilians. I get a phone call from Fey screaming that I was a mobster.
He cursed me out, but he gave Rickson the check.
McCarthy: The only confrontations I remember were between Rorion and his family. [Laughs] Relatives, cousins, all kinds of threats. He owned “Gracie Jiu-Jitsu.” Whenever anyone tried to do anything off of it, he sued them. And they wanted to get at him because of it.
Gordeau: They changed my opponent. The first match, I have to fight Gracie. And then they change the schedule because the Japanese told the people there that I was dangerous.
Davie: Gerard has been telling that story for years. It’s just not true. I was changing the matches up until a day before the show. I was thinking of matching him up with Shamrock. Rorion wasn’t involved in that at all. Later on, in order to eliminate any criticism about that, we went to a blind draw at the press conference with UFC II.
Frazier: They didn’t let us see the mat until the day of. It was literally as soft as a mattress.
DeLucia: It favored the wrestlers. For a stand-up fighter, it was like moving in sand. We made them tear it up. And they did.
Rorion Gracie: There was carpet padding so they don’t hit their head on the ground, and canvas on top. What, asphalt would be better?
Davie: Rorion wanted more of a padded surface. He wanted 3” of foam. We settled on 1.5”. Later, after the first UFC, we cut it down to an inch.
DeLucia: There was the kickpad drill [for the media]. We all got to get in there and hit this pad to see who hit hardest. I had the heaviest hit with a side kick. The second heaviest hit in the room was Ken Shamrock. He did it with a forearm.
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