Professional wrestler “Cowboy” Mike Andrews (middle), his father and former pro wrestler Galen Carpenter (standing) who wrestled under the name Gen. Von Kessler and aspiring pro wrestler Wes Watkins pose for a photo in Mike’s backyard ring on Saturday, Dec. 7, 2014, in his backyard in Overton, Texas. The Andrews’ are a family of multigenerational Texas pro wrestlers. Mike and other members of his family are doing what they can to preserve independent pro wrestling. One of the ways Mike is doing that is through training would-be pro wrestlers. (Derek Kuhn/Staff)

Professional wrestling and Texas have a storied history with two families — the Funks from Amarillo and the Von Erichs from Dallas — being at the forefront of the squared-circle. The Funks are still training wrestlers and promoting shows in the panhandle, while tragedy notoriously befell the Von Erichs in the late ’80s and early ’90s, making it difficult for the family to continue on the wrestling tradition.

Although those dynasties led the scene, there were many more families and individuals who contributed to this cultural phenomenon, including one East Texas family that is still grappling with “the business.”

The Overton-based Andrews posse is a family of multi-generational professional wrestlers who are doing what they can to preserve their way of life in the World Wrestling Entertainment era.

IN THE BEGINNING

The Andrews’ relationship with pro wrestling began in 1980 when Galen Carpenter, whose ring name is Gen. Von Kessler, broke into “the business.”

Galen, a Korean War veteran who served with the U.S. Army’s First Infantry Division, said he was initially offered free gear and training with the Funks, but his wife at the time convinced him not to pursue a career in pro wrestling.

Years later, when he was 40, Galen decided to become a pro wrestler — defying people who said he was too old.

Though he was by far the oldest in his class, Galen and one other out of a group of 30 survived the training at John “Ivan the Terrible” Shaw’s pro wrestling school. Shaw, who was renowned for wrestling circus bears in the ’50s and ’60s, ran the school while his trainers handled the day-to-day instruction. Galen said Black Bart was his primary trainer.

After finishing the school, Galen went on to wrestle for 15 years until he retired from pro wrestling due to the rigors of “the business.”

“The first question everyone asks me is ‘is it fake?'” Galen said. “I got a broke right foot, a broke right leg, five ribs on my right side, four on my left side, a herniated, ruptured and deteriorated disc in my back, my right shoulder has been broken three times, my left shoulder has been broken two

 

times and numerous concussions — it’s all fake,” he said, laughing.

 

LIKE FATHER LIKE SON

“Cowboy” Mike Andrews (real name Raymond Smith) is one of Galen’s sons who is sticking it out on the independent circuit and is helping preserve this aspect of Americana.

“My dad was a wrestler,” Mike said. “And all I wanted to do was follow in his footsteps.”

So, like his father, Galen, before him, Mike became a professional wrestler. However, unlike his father, Mike started much earlier at age 16.

But now at 40 years old, Mike said he isn’t taking as many shows as he did when he was younger.

“It takes a toll on your body,” he said. “I’ve been doing this since I was 16 years old and I am 40 now, so my body has taken some punishment. The bumps and bruises you get over the years from doing it every day — it’s not just the shows; it’s the training, too.”

Now, Mike is much more selective about which shows he performs in.

“I don’t need to do shows,” Mike said. “I do it because I love it, and I love helping people. That’s why I do mostly charity shows.”

Mike, who is a full-time welder and a father of three, said he does about eight charity shows a year.

On Saturday, Mike and his brother, Elijah Andrews, drove about 200 miles from Overton to Leonard to work a show that raised money for James Isaac and Ashley Smith, of Paris, whose 5-month-old daughter Annabelle died. Both parents are blind. The Andrews brothers teamed with Fruitvale’s own Van Johnson in a triple-threat, tag-team match in front of a crowd of about 50 people.

“The Posse,” as the three wrestlers bill themselves, lost the match, but helped win the night by helping alleviate some of the couple’s medical and funeral bills.

 

LOOKING AHEAD

Mike said he knows that he can’t wrestle forever — even though he’d like to — so he’s doing his part to ensure the future of “the business” by helping develop the next generation of sports entertainers.

Currently, Mike has only one student, 20-year-old Beaumont native Wes Watkins. Mike said he had more students, but the reality of the training forced most to reconsider their future in pro wrestling.

“The training is fun, but it hurts,” Watkins said. “You just got to get through the training to get where you want to be, whether it’s with the big boys (WWE) or just going out there and showcasing your passion through performance.”

But it’s not all bumps and bruises. Mike said there are a lot of little things that go into making a pro wrestler.

Watkins agrees and said there’s more to pro wrestling than people think.

“It’s all difficult,” he said. “It involves a lot of hand-eye coordination and listening.”

Despite the lumps, Watkins said the pain was worth chasing his dreams of being a pro wrestler.

“Growing up, wrestling was all that I had,” he said. “I didn’t live with my mom or my dad; I lived with my grandmother as an only child. I watched wrestling all the time — I always wanted to do it. I used to make little plastic, fake cardboard (title) belts, and I would wrestle this dummy that people use in karate. We’re talking intro music and staging matches. It was a good fun way to relieve stress — and now I get to do it.”

Speaking about Mike as a trainer, Watkins said he’s a great mentor, but doesn’t tolerate horseplay in the squared circle.

“I think I’ve got everything down that he’s taught me — he’s a great trainer,” Watkins said. “He’s (Mike) gonna mentor you, but if you want to be in the business, he’s not going to play any games. It’s like: You’re going to be here to train or you can go. He doesn’t waste his time on people who, when they get in the ring, find out they don’t want to be a wrestler. Mike has other people to train, he has a job and a family to take care of, so he is not going to sit around and babysit people.”

In a way, the pro wrestling community is Mike’s family, and that is why he wants to give back.

“Being a veteran (wrestler) and having done it so long, I like helping out the younger guys who want to break into the business — teach them what I know,” Mike said.

“It’s my life, and it’s my family’s life,” he added. “Our love for wrestling has helped us stay close. Being able to do what you love … what’s better than that?”