Raul Cruz would take a bullet for El Santo, so it was nothing for him to make the long trip from Oak Lawn through a foot of snow to the Congress Theater last Saturday afternoon. As vice president of the El Santo International Fan Club, it was nothing less than Cruz’s solemn duty to do all he could to secure an audience with Mexico’s greatest wrestler.
When El Santo padre died, Cruz transferred his loyalty to El Hijo de Santo. “He’s following in his father’s footsteps,” says Cruz, “which is not the easiest thing in the world to do, considering what his father accomplished. It would be like being Elvis’s son.”
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A few weeks ago Israel Aguilar, one of Cruz’s chat-group correspondents, invited Cruz to join the El Santo International Fan Club. He accepted, and was immediately made vice president. The club–about 70 members headed by president Nohemi Romero, Aguilar, and now Cruz–talked about making El Santo T-shirts and other merchandise. But although luchador identity can seem remarkably fluid–characters’ names and costume designs are often franchised out to create female or dwarf versions, or to keep a character going after its originator retires–it’s subject to no less litigation than any other form of intellectual property, and Cruz and his partners knew they’d need El Santo’s blessing before they put his likeness or name on anything. Romero claimed to have spoken with El Santo on the phone and discussed the venture, but the club’s follow-up e-mails to the wrestler’s Web site were unreturned.
The days leading up to the match seemed cursed, which only added to Cruz’s anxiety and anticipation. First El Santo’s Web site crashed and was down for two days. Then on the day of the match, when the wrestlers were due to arrive by plane, the snowstorm hit.
At 7:25 Cruz abandoned the phones to watch the first match between a pair of maskless wrestlers described as the “lower end of the talent scale” by Chris Kowalsky, a writer for the fan site Chicagowrestling.com. Tojo Yamamoto Jr., like El Hijo de Santo and many others, is a second-generation wrestler, whose father made a name for himself wrestling in Memphis. Bald and pear-shaped, Yamamoto is a typical rudo, or heel–a bad guy. He walked into the ring wearing black-and-red tights and waving a Japanese flag. He stood on the ropes and began taunting the crowd, the Rising Sun stitched to his ample backside. His opponent, Jose Guerrero, made his entrance with a Mexican flag draped over his faded green tank top and baggies. He gave Cruz, who was standing ringside, a bear hug before climbing into the ring. Cruz was puzzled. “I don’t know who he is, but what the hell?” he said.
Meanwhile El Santo emerged from his room and gave an interview to a dapper reporter from Univision. By the time Cruz returned to the dressing room El Santo had gone back inside. “I’m told that Rocky is coming,” he said, joining a small throng of supplicants who’d run over when they saw the wrestler.
Cruz went back to watch the wrestlers. During the first match among the Mexicans, a full-size wrestler tossed the dwarf Mascarita Sagrada out of the ring and on top of Cruz. “Actually Mascarita took the worst of it,” said Cruz, “because he bounced off of me and hit the side of the ring, and that’s wood and metal.” Afterward Mascarita was mobbed by small children demanding his autograph. “He is a rock star to these kids,” said Kowalsky.
