Gripping Suspense : All Hands Loved Wrestlemania Too in Palmdale

Critics panned the film, but few questioned the depiction of championship arm wrestlers as roaring, wild-eyed maniacs in “Over the Top.” The contestants drank motor oil and slapped each other silly to get psyched up for matches.

Nobody could beat Sylvester Stallone, who grabbed the world championship before a screaming throng of thousands, raking in $350,000 in cash and prizes plus custody of his 12-year-old son along the way.

That was Hollywood. This is Palmdale.

The showroom of Palmdale Honda to be exact, site of the California Arm Wrestling Championships, fully sanctioned and all that.

What sort of muscle tussle went down Sunday behind those windows splashed with “0 Down Available!” and “Poor Credit: No Problem!”?

Expectation: Brainless, beery-breathed hulks and enough hype to make even the car salesmen in plaid sport coats blush.

Reality: A tight-knit group of everyday folks competing intensely yet exhibiting uncommon sportsmanship in a family environment.

Seriously.

THE SETTING

Promoter-announcer Ed Levitt played a referee in “Over the Top,” and high-energy music cranking over loudspeakers gave the impression of a sound track, but similarities to the movie pretty much ended there.

This match was an open pro-am, meaning that anyone could enter and no one would leave with anything more than a large trophy for his or her efforts. A sanctioned National Arm Wrestling Assn. tournament sounds highfalutin; this is basically a family-run operation perpetuated for the love of this obscure and somewhat-misunderstood sport.

Levitt, who runs the NAWA along with several people named Siegfried, kept the action fast-paced and filled time between matches with lively banter over the microphone.

“Who’s gonna be the hero, who’s gonna be the zero?” he shouted more than once.

A single table stood on a platform in the middle of the showroom surrounded by about 100 chairs for spectators. The place was standing-room only, with most fans either family or friends of contestants.

“Pick a winner and root ‘em on,” Levitt said.

The 10-year-old daughter of heavyweight Ed Hoffman quietly did homework until her father competed, beaming with pride when he won a match. The teen-age daughter of another arm wrestler watched over a half-dozen toddlers of other competitors.

Men competed in four weight classes: under 155 pounds, 156-181, 182-205, and over 205. Only two women competed: Judy Wheeler defeated Kori Siegfried twice in the double-elimination format.

Arm wrestlers, who call themselves “pullers,” gripped pegs with their left hands and stood with their shoulders square to the table before locking right hands with their opponents.

Referees Dick Ingwaldson and Alen Frederick, both world champion pullers in their own right, held the clasped hands of the contestants until Ingwaldson said, “Ready, go.”

If pullers’ hands slipped apart, Ingwaldson bound them with a leather strap.

Matches lasted from four seconds--a quick pin is called “flashing” an opponent--to three minutes, with the longer matches seeming to last an eternity.

The vanquished unfailingly shook hands with the victors, and throughout the day pullers pulled for fellow pullers.

THE CONTESTANTS

“Many of the world’s best arm wrestlers are from this area,” Levitt proclaimed into the microphone.

Absent were local luminaries Dot Jones, a 233-pound women’s heavyweight from North Hollywood; Lori Cole, a middleweight from Encino, and Jimbo Edwards, a men’s heavyweight from Simi Valley, former national champions all. Terry Shapiro, a men’s light-heavyweight champion from Simi Valley, attended but did not compete because of an arm injury.

Others did, including Craig Green, a 35-year-old former state middleweight champion from Arleta. He is making a comeback after suffering strained tendons in his forearm a year ago, the most common arm-wrestling injury. Green’s training includes water skiing, which he says requires the same muscles.

“Body builders who can bench-press 500 pounds wonder how I beat them, but they don’t realize the arm is a chain and a chain is only as strong as its weakest link,” said Green, who at 170 pounds is not physically imposing.

After the blonde, blue-eyed Green easily won an early round match, Levitt shouted, “Who is that surfer dude?”

Sixteen-year veteran Larry Marks of Palmdale was up next, and his 7-year-old son, Brian, accompanied him to the table, craning his neck to get a good view of Dad’s match.

Marks provided the closest resemblance to Lincoln Hawk, Stallone’s character in “Over the Top.” In addition to the father-competing-to-son’s-cheers similarity, Marks turned his cap backward before competing, a Stallone trademark that he described in the movie as “turning on a switch” of intensity.

Alas, after two early victories, Marks lost two in a row and was eliminated. Brian gave his dad a hug and put on the oversized NAWA T-shirt Larry received as a consolation prize.

Jerry Gilio, a salesman at Palmdale Honda who persuaded his employer to stage the tournament, was up next. He once finished second in the world amateur championships, but on this day was no match for Rick the Pony-Tailed Sheet Metal Worker from Temecula.

Several pullers had nicknames, including the top heavyweights: Mishon (Bruiser) Neal and Eric (The French Connection) Woelfel. Neal wore a black leather jacket with “Bruiser” embroidered on the pocket and spent time between matches practicing pulls and listening to headphones.

Woelfel, the most physically imposing puller at 6 feet 5, 240 pounds of bulging muscle, flew in from the arm wrestling hotbed--really--of Petaluma, Calif.

An underdog climbed through the 155-and-under bracket. Favorite Steve (The Funny Guy) Martin wasn’t laughing after falling to Jerry Page, a flight-test mechanic from Lancaster competing in his first tournament.

Page was nearly pinned but he came back, slowly raising his arm until finally getting over the top and bringing Martin’s arm to the orange touch pad that ends the match.

After using the same script to defeat Rob Martin in a semifinal, Page thrust his arms overhead, looked toward the gathering of family and friends cheering him and let out a loud whoop: He had advanced to the final, where 5-foot-2 veteran Don Siegfried, ranked No. 2 in the world, waited in ridiculous-looking eight-inch platform shoes that short pullers wear in order to stand eye-to-eye with opponents.

THE SIEGFRIEDS

Siegfrieds stand tall in the world of arm wrestling.

Larry Siegfried began the NAWA. Jennie Siegfried keeps the NAWA alive. Don Siegfried dominates the NAWA.

The late Larry Siegfried launched the organization in 1977, staging tournaments throughout Southern California and offering a respected alternative to existing tournaments in Petaluma, Reno and Las Vegas. The organization quickly gained stature and expanded, holding tournaments in Oregon, Washington, Texas, Nevada and Mexico.

“Larry took the sport to another level,” said Levitt, who trained under Siegfried and won a 1978 world amateur championship. “He kept it out of the bars and helped make it a legitimate sport with a decent following.”

Siegfried died in 1990 of kidney cancer at age 52 and the NAWA was dormant for two years. In 1992, his wife Jennie revived the organization with Levitt’s help.

Larry and Jennie’s children, Don and Kori, compete, and the diminutive Don stands head and shoulders above his lightweight competition.

The Larry Siegfried Memorial Award, given each year to the person Jennie feels best represents the sport, has become one of arm wrestling’s most coveted honors.

Before the finals, Levitt presented this year’s award to Ingwaldson, the referee and former champion who is at once the sport’s clown prince and goodwill ambassador.

Ingwaldson spent the day refereeing with one eye on his two young children. Between matches he would dash over and wipe their noses or let them climb on his back. Upon receiving the award, he needed a tissue himself to wipe tears from his eyes.

ABOUT THESE CHAMPIONSHIPS

Nearly every arm wrestler, it seems, has a grip on some sort of championship. The sport has more organizational arms than an octopus.

“Most tournaments bill themselves as state or national or regional championships,” said Lori Cole, the 10-time world champion from Encino who didn’t compete in Palmdale. “Ed and Jennie have theirs. I have my own. There are hundreds of us. In that way, our sport is fragmented.”

Levitt says an NAWA championship is among the most prestigious.

“There are so many organizations out there, but only a couple mean something,” he said. “The NAWA, the Petaluma Wrist Wrestling tournament and the Yukon Jack events. Those are the best.”

THE FINALS

The first three finals were over in a flash, flash, flash as Siegfried (lightweight), Green (middleweight) and Don McClary (light heavyweight) pinned their opponents in fewer than 10 seconds.

The heavyweight match between Woelfel and Neal held more drama. Neal seemed poised to win, but Woelfel gained leverage by bracing his leg against the table.

Slowly, Woelfel raised his arm until it was once again perpendicular to the table. The music was blaring, the crowd was on its feet, jumping, clapping, shouting. . . .

“Arm wrestling is the ultimate in one-on-one competition,” Levitt would say afterward. “No devices. It’s you against me.”

Woelfel adjusted his grip, wrapping his fingers as high over Neal’s hand as possible, and started . . . OVER . . . THE . . . TOP. When his arm hit the orange pad, Neal reacted as if he had touched a flame. “ Arrrrgggg. “

Ingwaldson slammed his hand on the table and yelled, “Pin!”

Woelfel leaped up and broke into a huge grin, revealing a full set of braces that instantly gave him the look of an adolescent.

Levitt and Jennie Siegfried handed out trophies and another NAWA mix of sport and spectacle was done, a hands-down success.