The First (and The Last) Time I Saw Big Louie
IronOnline Memory Archive
As I recall, it was a hot Summer afternoon in 1979. I had finished a day of construction work on a housing project somewhere in South Orange County, and was dog tired. Eight hours straight of radical cardio in the hot sun for a day's pay. I pulled in the lot of Zuver's on 19th Street, ignoring the usual Newport Beach Auto Show parked there: Kenny Bowmar's 512 Berlinetta Boxer, Gary Newton's whale-tail Turbo Carrera, and the usual bevy of assorted Euro-exotica. I was much more concerned with what was inside the building. Little did I know that a vehicle owned by an unusually large, and somewhat shy, occupant was parked out there as well.
I walked into the familiar sights, sounds, and ... uhem ... smells of the place. The usual people doing the usual things with one exception: alone in the corner sat a rather large gent in a yellow T-shirt with his back to the room doing leg extensions. He looked fairly big seated and hunched over doing his extensions, but not enough to otherwise stand out among the regulars. Oh well, just another new guy to join the fray. No big deal. I greet my training partners and we proceed to start our chest workout on the opposite side of the room.
The leg extension machine was a Zuver-designed custom contraption on which standard plates could be loaded from the side, rather than the more commonly seen cable affair. I didn't count, but as I glanced across the room again, this guy had a large stack of plates on each side and was doing set after set. His quads had to be on fire. Now I'm starting to pay attention. As he sat with his back turned to us, for some reason I noticed his black hair which had the disheveled look similar to that of a small boy who just woke up from a long night's sleep.
When he finally finished his last set about the same time I rose from the bench from one of mine, he stood up and stretched out to his full height. He then turned toward us, scanning the room in a fashion reminiscent of Godzilla emerging from Tokyo Bay looking for breakfast. Holy Cow! It's Ferrigno! Big Louie! Wow! I had heard a rumor that he was living in Orange County and training in our gym, but he usually came in the mid-morning when the place was virtually empty. It hadn't registered that he would switch one day and work out in the afternoon, but there he was.
Before he bent over to adjust the weight to finish off his leg work with thigh curls, a friend of mine (who was about 6' 1", 240 lbs, and ironically, went by the nickname of "Goliath") walked past the leg area coming from the locker room. Walking by Louie, "Goliath" looked like a child. No comparison whatsoever. At his 6' 5" he had to be at least 300 pounds. Definitely an "off season" time for him as he was beyond huge. Not much clear definition at that weight, but pure Mass from head to toe. Biggest guy I've ever seen. At that weight, his chest had to be at least 60" and his arms 23". In short, the visage was nearly that of a monster from another planet.
He finished up without saying a word to anyone. It was quite apparent he wanted to be left completely alone, so we all respected that. In watching him further though, I was reminded of the touching scene in "Pumping Iron" where Louie stood alone eating a piece of fruit while Arnold clowned around and worked the room. The monster disappeared and the man re-emerged. The juxtaposition of his massive body with such a shy and pensive personality serves as a stark but simple reminder of the humanity behind the seemingly otherworldly bodies in this sport. Underneath whatever bodies we wear, however large or small, we're all just humans with similar strengths and frailties. It's how we use the strengths and overcome the frailties that determines what and who we are. Probably something for us all to keep foremost in mind.
Not long afterward, I heard another rumor that he had moved back to L.A. in order to be closer to the center of the film industry. I never saw him again, but that small memory and lesson will always be with me.
Bill L
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