Let There Be Fight

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Ken Shamrock did not know anything about UFC 1 until one of his students told him about a flier advertising the event. He was living in Lodi, Calif., at the time. Initially, Shamrock, who was relegated to fighting in Japan and held the Pancrase championship, blew it off. However, something compelled him to go back and check out the flier anyway.

“Once I did, it seemed like it was the real deal and I contacted Art Davie,” Shamrock said. “When I think back at this, no one really knew what real mixed martial arts was at the time. Most people thought MMA was pro wrestling then. Really, it was no-holds-barred pro wrestling. Some of the population understood what it was but not really the extent of what mixed martial arts was.

“No one saw anything like we were about to do, other than what they saw in a Van Damme movie or a Bruce Lee movie, where kicking and throwing and that type of stuff was used,” he added. “In reality, you had heel hooks, leg locks, armbars [and] chokes; those were things that were dangerous and no one understood that.”

Jimmerson had no grasp of the situation. He was a fringe cruiserweight contender hoping for a payday against Tommy Hearns. Jimmerson had endured some down time due to managerial entanglements but wanted to renew his boxing career again. When he heard there were no weight classes, and knowing how draining weight loss was for a boxer, he jumped at the idea of fighting at UFC 1 -- until Jimmerson heard the rest.

“Then I heard no rules, and I started to wonder if this was a death match or not,” he said. “I was in because they kind of blindsided me at first when they offered me $10,000. Once I got the full story, I backed out of it. They told me I gave them a verbal commitment and they had my name on the posters and threatened to sue me.

“We got into talking, and when they offered me $10,000 more, I accepted,” Jimmerson added. “I have a family to take care of and a career ahead of me, and I didn’t want to risk a career-threatening injury. I took out a Lords of London insurance policy, which made me feel better about doing it.”

Jimmerson’s reality, however, was that he had no idea who was fighting. His perspective on it boiled down to a popular video game.

“We all laughed about it at first, but there was $50,000 at stake, and that’s a lot of money,” Jimmerson said. “If I was knocking guys out in the gym with gloves on, I thought this was the easiest money in the world. It’s why, going in, I thought I had the advantage, as a boxer and because of my style.

“I knew nothing about anyone going into this. [The] ‘Street fighter’ video game [is what] I played, and that is what I thought this was,” he added. “To me, I thought I had the advantage, as a boxer, because of my style. Earnest Hart, a karate champion out of my hometown [in] St. Louis, thought it was a good idea [that] I give it a try. He’s the one who got me in touch with Art Davie.”

Davie and Semaphore found Frazier -- after he beat the holy hell out of Frank Dux, of “Bloodsport” fame -- at a kickboxing tournament in Long Beach, Calif. However, Frazier had already known Rorion Gracie. They had met a year earlier in August 1992, when Frazier was disqualified in a championship fight with Woody Simms. Their encounter spilled out into a street brawl.

“Afterward, this tall guy approached me and introduced himself to me as Rorion Gracie and brought me to his business booth, where he showed me this video of Gracie Jiu-Jitsu,” Frazier said. “I remember complaining about how all the kickboxing fights were drying up and only a handful of guys were getting fights. I remember watching this video Rorion put in, and he told me they’re working on fights where anything goes. I heard that and I was in.”

As all of the elements of UFC 1 congealed, there was still doubt as to whether or not the venture would take off. WOW Promotions did not actually sign the contract with Semaphore until 70 minutes before the show.

“It was that close,” Davie said.

McCarthy laughed when asked to recall the lead up to the event.

“No one knew what it was going to be,” he said. “It was the template, and it wasn’t a good template, because there were a whole lot of holes in it. The tournament was a $50,000 prize, winner take all, but the night before the event, the fighters were pulled into a rules meeting and told to sign a release to participate, freeing Semaphore and WOW Promotions of any liability. A lot of the fighters were upset and didn’t want to sign. Finally, Taylor Wily stepped up and signed it. That created a ripple effect, and everyone signed.”

The night of the event, Jimmerson put on a hoodie and traipsed up to the top of McNichols Arena, wanting to take in everything from a wide scope. Later, as the fights began, Jimmerson’s manager rushed back to his dressing room in tears, pleading with him not to go through with it. Jimmerson was so unsure he would actually fight that he did not bring his full array of gear. Hours before the boxer’s fight against Royce, Davie had to send his younger brother, Matthew, to a sporting goods store for boxing shoes and gloves.

“It was my idea to put the one glove on and trick Royce. I put the glove on my left hand -- and my power hand is my right hand -- because I wanted the cushion on my jab hand and [to] sucker Royce in with my left hand,” Jimmerson said. “It’s crazy, because I get into the [Octagon] and the place is sold out. I see Royce coming through, and I thought this whole thing was a joke. I didn’t realize where I was until they announced the names. They announced my name and I heard maybe two people clap. I knew then I was in trouble.”

Shamrock had his doubts, too. He saw Royce as a skinny, little karate guy; once he got his hands on him, he would smash him. According to Shamrock, the fight card was rearranged seven times the day before the event, placing Royce in the position with the least amount of resistance. Shamrock did not think anything would happen until the very moment he walked to the Octagon. As the fighters were taken care of with transportation, hotel accommodations, the fighter meetings, Shamrock kept harboring the thought that, at any time, the hammer was going to fall, the rug was going to get yanked from under this grand idea. It was not going to happen.

“The sport grew its own legs that night; it really did,” Shamrock said. “It was almost like, once you put it out there, people couldn’t get enough of it, starting with UFC 1. It was truly no-holds-barred. I think everyone had an idea of what they were getting into, especially myself, Royce and Gordo. I’m not sure the other five guys knew the extent of what they were getting into.

“In my mind, I believed that I was going to win it all,” he added. “Until you were there and actually saw it, you [could not] believe [that] it was going to happen. It wasn’t actually confirmed until it actually happened. I don’t fight for belts, and I don’t fight for money. I have a true passion for this. I always had [it]. I wanted to be the best in the world, and this presented a chance to do this.”

Royce submitted all three of his opponents: Jimmerson in his debut, Shamrock in the semifinals and Gordeau in the final.

“I made a lot of mistakes that night,” Shamrock said. “I went in there and was not trained for that elevation [of Denver], and I partied a little bit the night before; and keep in mind, I kept thinking, ‘It’s not going to happen. It’s just not going to happen.’”

But it did happen.