Shirley Crabtree (14^th November 1930 to 2^nd December 1997)

When I was a lad Saturday afternoons were for playing - bike rides, building dens, following baddies to shoot. However if it as raining we stayed in and World Of Sport on ITV dominated the afternoons. The highlight was wrestling. Two mountains of men remain in my mind: Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks. The former was actually called Shirley Crabtree but I doubt you’d tell him he had a girl’s name as he was 6ft 2" (1.88m) and 26 stone 9lb (170kg).

He would enter the squared ring wearing a Union Jack jacket and top hat with "We Shall Not Be Moved" (by The Seekers) played at high volume. He worked under various names like The Blonde Adonis and Mr. Universe before coming Big Daddy. He was known for the “body block” and “scoop slam” but mostly for the "belly splash" when he slammed his barrel body and 64" chest on his opponent.

He was born into poverty Halifax, the oldest of three brothers. No running water in the house, no inside toilet and soon no dad; he left when the boys were young so Shirley became the dad of the house. He left school at 14 to replace bobbins on the machines in one of the local mills and at 16 moved to Blackpool to become a lifeguard. He also worked as a coal miner, was in the Coldstream Guards and played Rugby League (but was often sent off due to a bad temper.)

Perhaps he got into wrestling as one brother was a wrestling referee and his another brother was a booker Joint Promotions. He joined this company as a “baddie” called The Battling Guardsman (from his time in the Coldstream Guards.) Within two years he was “Big Daddy” but still cast as a villain. He formed a tag team with “Giant Haystacks“ but the crowd’s “boooos” changed to cheers and they warmed to his manner. The “D” on his leotard (made from his chintz couch) changed to “Big Daddy”. Children especially loved him as is Margaret Thatcher and the Queen. Perhaps they sensed he was a kind, caring man and there wasn’t one bad bone under those walrus-like layers of chub.

“Big Daddy” came from the film Cat on a Hot Tin Roof when Elizabeth Taylor referred to a character as Big Daddy. It’s guessed he was christened Shirley from his grandmother’s love of the Charlotte Bronte novel of the same name.

For thirty years heavy-weight fought feudal fights all over the UK. I can still remember him now entering the ring, flinging off a sequined cape to reveal his huge hippo torso (which got into the Guinness Book Of records.) The crowds would be chanting “Easy! Easy! Easy!” He was big business in the 1970s and 80s. Shop keepers moaned business turned slack at 4pm on Saturdays when televisions broadcast the wrestling. Though he appeared on various television shows (and This Is Your Life) there were two sour moments. Aged 57 he did a Body Splash onto “King Kong Kirk” who turned purple and was rushed to hospital. He died before the ambulance reached Great Yarmouth hospital. Even though the autopsy flagged up a serious heart condition Big Daddy was deeply grieved and this lead him to retirement. Also he was offered his own television series that would have made him heavy money but he turned it down on his doctor’s advice.

Though he trained most days and never drank alcohol his body couldn’t take it anymore. He ran his own gym for a while but suffered a series of strokes. One was fatal and he died in Halifax General Hospital at 67. He left Eunice his second wife of 31 years and six children.

I didn’t know he lived so close to my weekend place in Todmorden. I drove though Hebden Bridge then was soon weaving uphill on narrow roads which looked out over splendid countryside. For some reason I thought Big Daddy was from the Midlands and not from the North.

It was difficult to get a photo of the house. You looked down onto two houses looking onto a yard and there was a girl of about 15 in one of the tope bedrooms. She backed away as I pulled out my camera and I was forced to go for a walk up round the nearby school until she disappeared.

Wonder if there’s a grave here, I thought and had a wander around the small village. It was quiet that Sunday afternoon, the wind through the trees yielding the highest volume. I think the place would have been quiet most of the time. No church spire rocketing out of the lush countryside. I found a local bod - an old lady with a heavily turned-down mouth and slits for eyebrows and I asked if she knew of Big Daddy. “Oh Shirley, yes everybody knew him,” she said but she didn’t know if he’d been buried or cremated. Local knowledge is usually the best and if Big Daddy’s bones were in a grave nearby she’d have known. I envisaged his ashes in an urn on top of a glass cabinet housing an array of belts, trophies and awards.

Back at home I found out he’d been cremated and his ashes lie in his wife’s garden in Southport (verification needed.)

The rear of the building…

In Mill Bank

Looking back at Mill Bank, the town where Big Daddy lived.

Goodbye Big Daddy