My dad -- the late Professor Sr. -- always used to make spaghetti sauce on Saturday nights, to serve for Sunday dinner. As he was cooking, I'd often be in the other room, watching TV -- usually AWA wrestling. We lived in suburban St. Paul, Minn., which was the home base for Verne Gagne's troupe of tumblers back in the day. In the late 60s/early 70s, Gagne's big weekly show --- All-Star Wrestling -- was on at 6 p.m. Saturday nights on WTCN, Channel 11, and I couldn't get enough.

While taking breaks stirring the sauce, dad would often poke his head in to see what the heck I was guffawing at. He knew TV wrestling was phony, but I was just a kid, and he let me enjoy the show. He got a kick out of the goofy guys like Ivan Putski (before he cut his hair and buffed up in the WWF) and was also fond of the Crusher, who everyone loved.

The Crusher, a Milwaukee brawler (Reggie Lisowski in real life) was bigger than life to this 8-year-old. He always talked about drinking beer, running off with "the dollies" and calling his enemies "turkey necks." Yes, this was well before "WWE Attitude." He had a barrel chest, a shock of blond hair and a face made for radio. He was also one of those wrestlers who started out as a bad guy but had such a great personality that you couldn't help but cheer for him. It wasn't long before he was one of the biggest celebrities in Minnesota. EVERYONE knew who the Crusher was in those days, when pro wrestling was a regional act. His longtime tag-team partner was a guy named Dick the Bruiser -- so it was always the Crusher and the Bruiser beating people up -- but make no mistake, Reggie was the star attraction.

I'd beg my dad to take me to see the Crusher at the old St. Paul Civic Center, and he'd be a good sport and pop for a few tickets every once in a while. When the Crusher would do something funny in the ring, I can still hear him laughing -- which was a sweet, sweet sound.

The Crusher, of course, was a wildman when the cameras were on, but a quiet, unassuming guy when the spotlight was off. One story (and trust me, there are millions) has Reggie at his Milwaukee home, when a small fire broke out. The local firefighters came to help him out, and a sizeable crowd gathered outside the Crusher's home. The neighbors were wondering just what the heck was going on. Lisowski, as the tale is told, told the fire crew to hold tight for a few seconds. He then went outside, hollered at the crowd in his Crusher voice (gravely and loud), telling them he was OK and they could scram. Back inside, he told the fire guys, "I have to do that every once in a while." Classic.

I heard that story several times over the years, and again late last month when it was announced that the Crusher had passed away. He was only 79.

It's a bit unsettling when your childhood TV heroes die. It makes you feel old. But for me, news of the Crusher's death was a bit different. Every memory I have of him is him being funny or goofy or singing or growling or chomping on a cigar. His "style" was as a brawler, as I mentioned, but he was best at just being entertaining. He genuinely brought a smile to your face, no matter what he did.

Sure, the venue is professional wrestling. And you can call it lowbrow until the end of time, I don't care. The fact of the matter is that Reggie Lisowski made millions of people happy with his chosen profession. He made millions of people laugh, including me, including my dad. From San Francisco to Denver to Milwaukee to St. Paul, those are sweet, sweet sounds. Then, now and forever.

(Professor Wrestling is a masked employee of Internet Broadcasting. Got a question, comment, compliment, complaint? E-mail him right here. You turkey necks.)