CHAPTER ONE
THE VANISHING MAN
September 30, 2018
San Francisco’s Mission District is beginning to teem with activity on this fair-weathered Sunday morning. Walking up and down 15th Street reveals a symbiotic relationship of various socio-economic worlds existing side by side. People living in tents on the sidewalk are beginning to emerge from their homes. An elderly man who looks like he has not changed his clothes in some time is concerned with a pigeon in the road being run over, so he attempts to coax the bird off the street with bread from his pocket. Others pass by wearing designer clothing, drinking coffee and tea from neighborhood shops. Nobody appears to be bothered by this disparity as the people move to a rhythm that is unphased by the differences, at least on the surface.
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Marshall Elementary School can be found on the corner of 15th and Capp Street; a brightly colored neighborhood elementary school found in the midst of this intriguing cross-section of worlds. Marshall Elementary would not normally be the center of action on a Sunday morning, but this is no ordinary Sunday. The gate of the school facing 15th street features a small, four-foot by three-foot banner that could easily blend in with the bright colors of the school, were it not for the large block letters spelling out the words, “Lucha Libre”.
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A muscular shirtless figure with white full-length tights, green boots and a green mask is running from left to right in the middle of the poster with a white cape flowing behind him. The image appears to be a recolored picture of El Santo, a Lucha Libre icon. The bottom of the sign shows images of famous masked wrestlers La Park, Hijo Del Fantasma, and Hysteria. These images are merely to draw attention to the news that lucha libre has come to Marshall Elementary as part of a PTA fundraiser.
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Turning the corner from 15th Street onto Capp Street there is a buzzing of activity behind the gates leading to the school’s playground. Straight ahead are several tables with canopies over them. In just over an hour these tables will be filled with an array of home cooked empanadas, nachos, and other foods that will fill the playground with a barrage of pleasing aromas. To the left is a sixteen-foot by sixteen-foot wrestling ring with a blue canvas that has been set up in the open area of the playground, which during the week is the place for students to engage in intense rounds of four square, soccer, dodgeball, or whatever imaginative games their young minds can conjure during those precious recess minutes.
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Empty chairs surround the four sides of the ring while volunteers work at a hurried pace to ensure everything is properly set for show time. The gates that separate the school from the street offer an unobstructed view of the playground. Those in charge of setting up the show are aware of this dynamic and the possibility of people standing on the street to watch the action without buying a ticket. To ensure everybody who sees a show pays for a show, volunteers are hanging up thirty yards of tarps along the gates with zip ties. Afterall, this show is a fundraiser, and in the spirit of neighborly comradery adults are being asked to pay $12 for the action, kids a mere $5.
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A solitary man is sitting in the section of empty chairs between Capp Street and the ring looking at his phone. He stands up and begins surveying this transformation from elementary school playground to wrestling venue. There is nothing particularly descript about this man that makes him stand out. He is wearing a red 49ers hat and a t-shirt bearing Joe Montana’s iconic name and number sixteen. At a height of approximately 5’8” and weighing 225 pounds, he would blend in easily with most crowds as he does with the twenty or so people setting up for today’s event. Though he is fifty years old he could easily pass for younger as his face displays a youthful exuberance, frequently accompanied by a smile that reveals the slightest gap between his front teeth. When he removes his hat, it reveals a full head of thick, black hair with little signs of graying.
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The Mission District has over 45,000 people within its confines, the majority of which are Latino, like the man in the 49ers hat. He possesses a calm temperament in the way he communicates with the people around him. When he speaks it is evident that he is thoughtful in his responses, searching for the right words rather than speaking before considering what he is saying. He is quick to listen to the people who come up to speak with him, just as he is quick to share a laugh.
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People are beginning to trickle in as 11:20am comes, but none of these spectators seem to take any notice of the jovial Latino man in the 49ers hat. This man is a luchador, a professional wrestler, but no one around him who is not part of the show is aware of this fact. By now other wrestlers have begun arriving and it is clear tat the talent for the show want to begin their preparations for the performance to begin at noon. He springs into action to find out where the talent roster is supposed to change for the performance. It turns out the multi-purpose room that is twenty feet away is going to be their makeshift locker room. A partition wall and cafeteria tables, folded upright in the middle with wheels at the base, are set up to separate one section of this small multi-purpose room and create the command center of today’s performance.
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Capp Street is beginning to pick up steam as is the surrounding neighborhood. A man struggling with mental illness walks by the gate rambling about Jesus as the Son of God, decrying the virgin Mary. News has just come down that despite the advertisement that the show is at noon, the promoter of the show is now saying the show starts at 1pm. The pace of spectators begins to pick up shortly before noon. Any delay in the show’s start time does not seem troublesome to the growing crowd as children jump into the ring to experience the feel of a real professional wrestling environment while parents joyfully mingle with one-another. The atmosphere is one of a traditional block party as people from the neighborhood with ties to the school come walking in and greeting friends they have not seen recently.
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Booths are set up by the entrance selling food tickets, luchador figurines, and t-shirts. Across the yard by the sound table are cheap lucha libre masks, which both kids and adults are purchasing, though several spectators brought their own and are wearing them already. A combination of Spanish and English can be heard all around, but the language mix is not divided by Latino and white as Marshall is a Spanish immersion school. Well over a hundred people are in attendance as 1pm nears. Bacon-wrapped hot dogs and elote (corn on the cob covered with mayo, cotija cheese, and various seasonings) are being devoured in every direction when the ring announcer’s voice begins the show at 1pm sharp.
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The crowd is abuzz and begins cheering as the show starts, which is being run by Promo Lucha Azteca. Approximately 150 people are in the predominately Latino audience. All eyes are now drawn to the ring as the show begins. Entrance music begins playing as the first wrestling talent makes their way to the ring for the tag team match that begins the show. The first team is the Honor Society, a well-known wrestling tag team in Sacramento and the surrounding region. They are booed heartily by the crowd. Wrestlers Sir Samurai and Drake Frost comprise this team and they come to the ring carrying large championship belts that are iconic in the wrestling industry as they are the tag-team champions of Supreme Pro Wrestling. These two men soak up the booing as a badge of honor and begin taunting the crowd in order to increase the vitriol.
Professional wrestling has traditionally been an art form of dualism, a representation of the battle between good and evil played out within the confines of a square surrounded by ropes and posts. The audience understands this duality, even if at a subconscious level, but it remains safe as the action is contained for entertainment value. This enables the audience to focus its efforts on cheering for good, hissing at the triumph of evil, and sometimes allowing emotions to spill over. On this day the Honor Society will be victorious and retain their title belts, much to the dismay of a 10-year-old boy seated next to the ring, who, in his visible frustration, stands up and punches Frost in the side. Drake Frost is a large man at 6’2” tall and 300 pounds. If Frost even feels the young boy’s fist, he shows no sign of it as the Honor Society makes their way back to the multi-purpose room, still champions.
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By 1:45pm the crowd is fully immersed in the spectacle, indulging in the delicious smelling food being sold and emotionally invested in the drama. Another match begins, one that is of particular interest to this story. This, too, is a tag team match, but one that will have special meaning to those in attendance. First, a team called Cult 45 is introduced consisting of wrestlers Rik Luxury and D Rogue. As they walk to the ring Luxury, who calls himself “Wrestling Personified”, grabs the microphone from the ring announcer who is sitting at the sound booth located next to the path leading from the locker room to the ring. He shouts into the microphone, “Viva Rudos!” Boos rain down from the audience who know exactly what Luxury means.
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The duo of Luxury and Rogue are a unique contrast as Luxury is in his mid-30s, stands 5’8”, 230 pounds, is white with long hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing a full body double strap singlet stretched over his body. D Rogue is younger, appearing to be in his twenties. He is significantly taller than his partner, roughly 6’1”, but with a much longer, thinner build weighing approximately 190 pounds. Rogue is black with long black hair, but rather than wearing a tight wrestling singlet, he wears black boxing style shorts that are reminiscent of Mike Tyson’s look during his prime. The pair has made their way into the ring and the audience is waiting to see who will challenge this nefarious duo.
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Suddenly, the tone of the crowd changes as new entrance music plays, but in contrast to the songs that have been heard during the first forty-five minutes of the show, this music is distinctly Latino in origin. The song is “No Me Se Rajar” by Vicente Fernández, and instantly generates excitement. The pair that emerges from the locker room are also wearing championship belts, but in this case, they are the tag team champions for Promo Lucha Azteca. They have no team name, only their individual monikers.
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The first half of the pair is Daniel Torch, a young man in his twenties with a thin, 140-pound frame on a short body. He has patchy facial hair on his young face and looks to be in impeccable cardiovascular shape. However, it is Torch’s partner who has captured the audience. The man who emerges by his side has an appearance that invigorates the imagination. For the first time on this day, the spectators are seeing a true masked wrestler. This masked man wears a red, double-strapped singlet with full-leg red tights. His red boots have flames drawn on them, as do the leather wrist guards tied to his arms. A long red cape fastened to his shoulders flows ever so slightly in the wind.
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The mask he is wearing to the ring is not his own, it belongs to lucha libre legend Mil Mascaras. This specific Mil Mascaras design is the “vampire” mask with a white fabric base and red bat on the front of the mask. Standing 5’9” tall, with a stout 230-pound frame, this man has a powerful presence that has captivated those in attendance. His wrestling name is Chicano Flame, and though he is not a household name, he is a Bay Area wrestling legend with a career that has spanned over twenty years. After the ring announcer has called his name, this masked figure stops and whispers something in the ear of the announcer before continuing his walk to the ring. The announcer then says, “The Chicano Flame who went to kindergarten right here at Marshall Elementary school”. Upon hearing this news, the young attendees are overwhelmed with excitement. Some go sprinting toward the walkway to give him high fives as he passes.
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Chicano Flame has made it to the base of the ring and begins ascending the stairs into the ring. There is a moment as he ascends the stairs where he stops and turns to look at the crowd with his left foot one step up from his right. When he turns, the wind catches his cape in just the right way to cause it to flow like he is a superhero. After he has climbed into the ring he removes the cape, then removes the Mil Mascaras “vampire” mask to reveal his own mask: the face of Chicano Flame. Wearing the mask of Mil Mascaras to the ring is merely an ode to that wrestling legend. Now the crowd sees mask of the man who was once a youth playing and learning at this very school.
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Chicano Flame’s mask is unique to him as is common with serious masked wrestlers. The design is intended to reflect the mythical Phoenix. The forehead of the mask shows the head and neck of the bird facing left. Accents around the eyes represent the body of the bird, while the area around the nose and mouth is designed to represent the bottom half of the bird, with a single triangle of color representing his tail. To capture the powerful wings of the mythical creature, both sides of the face have highly detailed wings made of two colors that present ornate, feathered wings as part of the hand-stitched mask. The design of the mask itself is a unique story that will be told later, but while the foundational composition remains the same, Chicano Flame’s masks come in a magnificently diverse series of colors. On this particular Sunday he has chosen a color scheme with shiny gold as the base material covering the head, with the bird design as a fiery red. One cannot help but think of classic San Francisco 49ers colors here in the Bay Area.
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The image of the Phoenix is wholly appropriate for Chicano Flame. Three hours before, he had been the man quietly sitting by himself, wearing his 49ers hat and looking at his phone. Whoever that man was sitting by the ring before the match has vanished altogether. Putting on the mask is not decoration; it is a transformation, a baptism, a re-birth just like the Phoenix rising from the ashes which were once its own body. The laid-back, jovial man quietly sharing conversations with others has been reborn once again as Chicano Flame, an outgoing and engaging personality in the world of professional wrestling. The man he had been mere hours before can easily blend into a crowd, but Chicano Flame has no interest in being just a face in the crowd; he is a performer, and this is his venue to portray Hamlet.
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To begin the bout this masked veteran will start against D Rogue, who is much taller and more athletic, but is also giving up forty pounds. The two combatants lock up, head-to-head, hands around the back of each other’s necks. D Rogue appears to have the early advantage, using his height as leverage, but this is fool’s gold as the cagey veteran reaches down and grabs the back of the youngster’s left ankle. Yanking upward he sends the tall athlete straight to his back. Chicano Flame now has his opponent right where he wants him.
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Over twenty years of wrestling has given the masked man a variety of tools at his disposal to effectively handle taller, younger opponents. Chicano Flame rolls D Rogue face down on the mat. Then, crossing the younger wrestler’s legs, bent at the knee, the masked man folds Rogue’s feet towards his own hamstrings. Chicano Flame is on his left knee, with his right foot flat on the mat, meaning he can use his inner right thigh to pin D Rogue’s bent legs in place. Now he is free to use both his arms to inflict further harm on his young opponent who is compromised to say the least. Chicano Flame goes to the work by grabbing D Rogue’s right arm and pulling it straight back, stretching the young wrestler’s body both forward and backward, putting immense strain on the abdominal region.
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An entertaining feature of many independent wrestling shows are comedy spots where the in-ring talent engage in humorous bits in the middle of a match that briefly suspend the rules of the ring. With D Rogue flailing in pain on the mat, his partner Rik Luxury has had enough of his teammate’s incompetence. Luxury comes into the ring without being tagged in, but rather than hit Chicano Flame to loosen the blow, he politely asks his opponent to get up for a moment. This conversation is not primarily verbal as wrestling is an art form that requires big motions and gestures to help the audience understand what is taking place. Though slightly confused, Chicano Flame obliges the man who is called “Wrestling Personified”. Luxury proceeds to put his own teammate in the same submission hold that his masked counterpart had been previously using. Why is he doing this? Luxury is attempting to teach his teammate that he needs to use his left arm to reach out and grab the lowest of the three ring ropes. Wrestling rules mandate that any submission hold or pin one wrestler has another must be broken once their opponent can get any part of their body on the ring rope.
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The lesson is now over, and Luxury invites Chicano Flame to resume inflicting pain on D Rogue. However, Chicano Flame grabs both of Rogue’s arms and pulls them straight back, stretching him even further. Rik Luxury face palms himself in disgust as the lesson is for naught. The audience is howling with laughter while D Rogue continues yelling in agony as he is being folded in opposing directions his body was never meant to go. This bit of comedy in the match has had its intended effect, and the masked luchador releases his opponent for the match to develop.
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Throughout the contest Chicano Flame performs an impressive variety of physical moves that one can imagine do not feel good on his 50-year-old body. Most of his ring time is against D Rogue, who Chicano Flame will suplex, body slam, and even jump from the top rope striking down on Rogue with his fist. Every move in professional wrestling is a risk and if not done properly can result in injury to oneself or their opponent. People who say this is a fake art are people who do not understand professional wrestling. Yet this match, as all the matches on today’s card, will conclude injury free. This does not mean it will conclude pain free. There is no such thing as a pain free wrestling match.
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When Chicano Flame is not in the ring, he is on the shoulder of the mat working the crowd, getting them to cheer for his partner Daniel Torch, who spends the majority of his time in the ring working against Rik Luxury. As the match nears its fifteen-minute time limit, all four men have worked hard to give the crowd a good performance. Following a series of events which result in Rix Luxury laying on the ground outside of the ring, Torch tags in Chicano Flame to put the finishing touch on D Rogue who has absorbed a lot of punishment during the bout. Chicano Flame comes in, and after delivering a couple of set up blows, he turns to the audience signaling that he is going to the top rope. Young and old erupt in applause as the masked man goes to the top rope to finish off his opponent.
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Chicano Flame is crouched on the top rope like a predator ready to pounce. D Rogue stands six feet away, stunned from the abuse he has taken from his opponents, and his own teammate. The 50-year-old Flame leaps from the top rope, angling his body in mid-air to land across his opponent’s body, chest to chest, bringing all 230-pounds down on Rogue’s sternum to put him away. As Chicano Flame connects, something unexpected happens. D Rogue uses his opponent’s momentum, absorbing the cross body hit and rolling backwards so that the force carries over, and on top of, Chicano Flame. The veteran wrestler is now pinned under the younger wrestler, who illegally grabs Chicano Flame’s red tights to prevent him from kicking out. The referee does not see the illegal grab, rather she quickly goes to the mat and gives the three-slap count. Cult 45 has just become the new Promo Lucha Azteca tag team champions. The crowd is stunned.
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Fortunes can change at a moment’s notice in professional wrestling. One minute you are a champion wearing a beautiful and prestigious title belt; the next it is gone and you see your opponents hoisting that hardware that just minutes before was yours. Cult 45 revels in the victory and the boos of the crowd while Chicano Flame checks on young Daniel Torch to see if he is well. The masked veteran waits until the new champions have left the ring, then he grabs Torch’s left arm with his right and raises their hands in the air. This is a gesture of respect to not steal the moment from the opponents, and one to the hard-fought bout his partner had just endured. The crowd gives hearty applause to the pair who then make their way back toward the locker room.
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Children and adults inundate Chicano Flame for pictures and high fives before he can make it back to the multi-purpose. He kindly obliges each of his young fans, stooping to take pictures and greeting each fan with a smile. The show continues as the masked man vanishes out of sight. The weather begins to turn as clouds overcast the sky and the wind begins to pick up. Forty minutes after his match ended, Chicano Flame emerges wearing one of his own wresting merchandise shirts and once again sporting the Mil Mascaras “Vampire” mask he brought to the ring. Masked wrestlers traditionally protect their identity, as he is doing now. There is a bench well behind the crowd seating area, near the wall of the school building. Chicano Flame sits there by himself watching the in-ring action. He is completely focused on the performances, studying their every move. Even after twenty years it is evident he is a student of the craft. There is a moment where a woman and her young child come up to him, and he warmly greets them. The young child, who is less than two years old, is taken aback by the mask. Mom and the wrestler have a chuckle.
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Ten minutes later the solitary man in the 49ers hat and t-shirt is standing by the food booths. Something has changed as nobody comes up to this man asking for pictures, or really even seems to know he is there. Chicano Flame has vanished into the ether, leaving the same jovial man from before, quietly blending into the audience with no one the wiser of his true identity. Chicano Flame is not just a wrestler, he is a secret, a mystery who can appear and vanish in a matter of minutes. This transformation is essential to his power and adds to his charisma. It also adds to the duality of the man performing the role. As Chicano Flame he is the center of attention, a powerful presence that captivates audiences. As the man he is most hours of the day, he is another person on the streets most would never notice.
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The most fascinating part of professional wrestling is not what happens in the ring, it is the world outside of the square. After the show ends, the crowds make their way home. The promoters of the event must begin the process of cleaning up, and taking down the ring, which is not an easy chore. Customarily wrestling talent, especially the younger talent with five years or less in the business, is expected to help at least with tear down, if not also putting the ring up. However, most of the wrestlers have already departed as several of them were performing at a five o’clock show by another promoter. Chicano Flame will stay behind and help clean up from the show, not because he has to, rather it is his own sense of etiquette. It is frustrating to him that the younger talent is frequently not paying their dues to the industry by doing their part in this process, but that will not stop him from doing the right thing.
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While several of the other wrestlers are beginning their next show, Chicano Flame arrives home at five o’clock. He lives in San Francisco’s Mission District, not far from Marshall Elementary. Professional wrestling is not his full-time career, yet it is his passion and this is his day off. He worked this show from 10:30am until 4:30pm and was compensated $40, meaning his performance and help merited him just under $7 an hour. Tomorrow his 50-year-old body will be sore and stiff, and he will work a full shift serving the public as a firefighter. Why does he do this? What compels this man to risk his long-term health for a performance art that could leave him irreparably injured on any given day?
To understand the answers to these questions is to understand that human identity is not always bound up within professions that pay the bills. It is to understand that sometimes what people are passionate about is worth the risk. Understanding the life and career of Chicano Flame is to look at the world through the eyes of an immigrant, a person who is a child of two worlds, though at times he feels like he belongs to neither. His is a story of pain and healing, loss and gain, life lived wearing a mask and the world beyond that mask. This is a story whose protagonist is neither famous nor a plaster saint; he is an everyday human being whose struggles are human struggles. It is a wrestling story, a family story, and an American story. This is the story of Chicano Flame.
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