“The year is around 1952, the dead of winter in Chicago. I’m 18 years old, bucking the fierce winds off Lake Michigan and the below-zero temperature as I head across the parking lot to attend classes at the University of Illinois at Navy Pier. I wait freezing while a Cadillac approaches, a yellow convertible with the top down. The driver is immense with a lion’s mane of hair blowing in the wind. He wears no coat, jacket, or sweater. Just a loud Hawaiian print, short sleeve shirt. His massive forearms almost obscure the steering wheel. I immediately recognize Yukon Eric. He is out for a spin along Chicago’s Outer Drive. His car passes. Somehow it does not seem as cold as before.” George Jerz
Memory of Wrestler E-Mail)
My father tried sending the above reminiscence to a Yukon Eric memorial page, but the e-mail got bounced back. I’m happy to publish it here instead.