Johnny Kincaid was born just as the war was ended. Eldest of seven children spent his early years living with his mum and siblings, in Battersea London, in a three up three down.

When his mother became ill and couldn’t cope John and his brothers and sisters were put into care, only his baby brother was adopted. They were not reunited until they were in their adulthood.

John was a happy child and like most boys got into mischief with his friends, which led to a stay in a detention centre. He could never have known what life had in store for him, how he would meet people who would shape his life, his future into something wonderful and beyond his wildest dreams. He became a world famous wrestler, but his initial dream was to become a boxer, and won many trophies as a good amateur boxer.

He could not foresee that he would travel the world and meet many famous people and become famous himself. The days when he had a quiet moment would be spent writing poetry, now retired and living with his partner, never would he have imagined as a father of three children and many grandchildren, that he would one day sit down and write a book.

MY MATE JOHNNY KWANGO

I was on my way out of the office when I heard this noise coming from a room at the bottom of the stairs; I peaked in and saw that it was a gym where the wrestlers trained.  In the ring at this time was a black guy, he had just put this other guy in a head scissors and caught my eye.  “Hello Blackie” he said.  Cheeky bastard I thought, he’s as black as the ace of spades.  “What’s your name?” he asked.  “Johnny Kincaid” I replied.  “Johnny Kwango” he said, I know that I thought, nobody else has a face like that and I’ve seen it that many times on television. “Johnny Kincaid, Johnny Kwango the JK’s” he said, a good name for a tag-team.

The year was 1969 the month was May and the date was the 16th when I had my first full time professional bout for Dale and Martin.  The place was Yarmouth, against Ivan Penzikoff and Jimmy Ryan, and my partner was the deaf and dumb star Harry Kendell.  It was the following month that I had my first tag-match with Johnny Kwango, and guess what we were billed as, the JK’s. 

John was like a Father to me, he taught me a lot over the hundred and fifty odd tag matches we had together.  In single matches Johnny was always billed as Johnny “Black” Kwango but when the apartheid was introduced they had to drop the black from the billing.  I was on a show with him when they first dropped it, and what he said to me was, “Kinky, they have taken my gimmick away, how will the public recognise me now?”

John was always taking the piss out of himself, like the time he told me he was so poor as a kid that his Mum couldn’t afford a pram.  So she licked his lips and stuck him to a shop window, or the only draw back in having lips like his was that he couldn’t put his head out of a train window, because he would be battered to death by them.

John wore a bandage around his right knee he used to say that it was the only way he could tell his left from his right, but the fact was he had a diseased bone in his knee and a hole in it which leaked pus.  One day whilst we were wrestling it started to bleed and this worried John, I told him we would stop at a hospital on the way home, but he would have none of it.  I didn’t know at this time that he had already had two operations on it, I believe his Wife Jean had nagged him that much, that a day or two later he went to the hospital.  They told him that they had a new technique and if he didn’t have the operation done there would be a chance of him losing his leg, the outcome was, he had the operation and it worked. 

The day I went to see him in hospital the Sister told me that they couldn’t wait to get rid of him.  I said “Is he that bad of a patient?” She said “No we just want a rest from laughing, and repairing the stitches that the other patients have burst from doing the same.  For the hour or so I was there he had me in tears, so after eating all his grapes I said my good bye’s and told him I will see him in the ring.

Like the American wrestling tapes we see here in England, our British wrestling tapes are sent all over the world, which makes stars like Mick McManus and Jackie Pallo world famous but none more than Johnny Kwango in Africa.  I remember when I was the booker for wrestler’s in Zambia and Johnny was amongst the first troop I took out there, on arrival in Lusaka we had the shock of our lives. 

The airport was full of people carrying placards and photos of Johnny saying welcome to Zambia Johnny Kwango.  Although I had with me some great wrestler’s like Caswell Martin, Monty Swann, The Wild Man of Borneo, we could have filled the halls just with Johnny.  All they wanted to see was Johnny use his famous head butt, the chant of butt, butt, butt, went round the hall and when Johnny eventually used the head butt the place erupted.  I did another seven trips to Zambia but none compared to the first trip with Kwango.

A year or so after he retired, I asked Johnny if he would like to come to a match with me, just to get him out of the house for a while, he agreed so I took him along to a new promoters show.  We were sitting in the dressing room talking to the wrestler’s that remembered seeing Johnny on television when the promoter came in and said “Your Johnny Kwango”. “Who, where, can I get his autograph” that was Johnny, joking all the time.  “Would you do me a favour?” the promoter asked.  “Don’t ask me to wrestle” Johnny said.  “Would you do a personal appearance for me tonight?” he asked.  “A personal appearance cost money” said Johnny.  “I’ll pay, I’ll pay” said the promoter.  Johnny said he was only joking and he would be honoured to do it for him.

My match was first after the interval, my opponent and I were in the ring when the master of ceremonies announced that they had a wrestling personality from the days of World of Sport come to see them and with their permission he would like to call him to the ring.  As he announced his name and he entered the hall, every person stood and clapped, by the time he entered the ring I had tears in my eyes.  When he came to me and shook my hand, he said, “I think I’ll make a come back John, I never ever received a reception like this when I was wrestling” he was seventy two years of age then.  Two years later Johnny passed away, I have never met a man with so much personality or charisma as Johnny Kwango and my guess is, I never will.