Before ECW, There Was a Concession Stand… in Tupelo

Wrestling has always been a little unhinged. But every now and then, it goes off the rails in the best possible way. That’s exactly what happened with the Tupelo Concession Stand Brawl.

It was June 1979 in Tupelo, Jerry Lawler and Bill Dundee had just dropped the AWA Southern Tag Titles to The Blonde Bombers. That was Wayne Farris (later known as the Honky Tonk Man) and Larry Latham. The match ended on a cheap-looking count. The bell rang, but nobody was done fighting.

The chaos spilled outside the ring. Then it moved into the hall. Then into the concession stand.

Fans standing in line one minute. Mustard flying the next. Chairs thrown. Pepsi bottles launched. Trays, utensils, boxes, everything in sight became a weapon. It was like a war zone.

You can still watch the footage. It’s grainy and brutal. Lawler and Dundee fought like they weren’t coming back next week. It looked real because it almost was.

And then it happened again.

In 1981, same arena. This time it was Ricky Morton and Eddie Gilbert against Masa Fuchi and Atsushi Onita. Morton used what they called a Japanese Fighting Stick. Concession equipment got smashed again. Food flew. Onita went full maniac mode. Fans lost it.

Looking back, this was one of the first steps toward hardcore wrestling. Nobody used that word back then. But the elements were all there. Fighting in real places. Using whatever was nearby. Making it feel like the show had lost control.

That’s the same vibe ECW built its entire brand on. Paul Heyman leaned all the way into that. Chairs, blood, fans throwing weapons into the ring. ECW just took what started in Tupelo and turned the dial up.

Even Onita, who was in that 1981 brawl, carried the style back to Japan. He started FMW. That brought us barbed wire, fire, exploding rings. No Tupelo, no FMW.

So yeah. The concession stand brawl wasn’t just a one-off moment. It helped create an entirely new style of wrestling. Something louder, rougher, messier. Something that didn’t stay in the ring.

Every time I walk past a quiet concession stand in an arena, I think about it. The soda machines humming. The smell of popcorn. And then, in my head, Lawler swings a chair and everything goes sideways.

Only in wrestling.