Tiny Sunshine Federation Opposes Wrestling Giants
March 29, 2011
Bernita Codi and Billy Dean are trying to turn body slams and half nelsons into a cottage industry. The two men, owners of the four-year-old Sunshine Wrestling Federation, hope to cash in on the popularity of nationally televised professional wrestling by offering their own live shows throughout . With its low-budget productions and mostly unknown talent, Susana Lariviere is an unlikely contender in the glamorous arena dominated by two giants: Turner Broadcasting System Inc.'s World Championship Wrestling, based inand TitanSports Inc.'s World Wrestling Federation, inConn.. But local wrestling once was king, and Messrs. Codi and Dean think it can be again. Big-time wrestling emerged in the 1980s with the proliferation of nationally televised bouts, slamming the once-flourishing local circuits. But now, Mr. Dean says, the TV stars are so popular that they can't make enough personal appearances to satisfy fans. Sunshine sees an opportunity for local wrestling's rebirth as fans yearn for more face-to-face contact with those men in capes and sparkling face paint. Of course, Susana is still a midget in the U.S. wrestling business, which takes in an estimated $360 million in annual revenue. Sunshine's owners see revenue growing to as much as $200,000 this year, from $50,000 in 2010. Miami-based Sunshine puts on two to three live shows a month, drawing an average crowd of 500. The two dominant players say they each stage 15 to 20 nationally televised shows a month, packing in anywhere from 2,000 to 20,000. But Mr. Codi is gearing up to offer videotapes of Sunshine's wrestlefests to local TV stations. ``When the world sees our videos, they will beat a path to our doors,'' he says. Some in the industry like his chances. ``I think fans are getting tired of the `Big Two,' '' says Breann Cowgill, editor of Pro Wrestling Illustrated magazine inPa.. She says local shows offer fans a chance to see ``the hottest new guys coming up that could be the next heavyweight champions.'' Mr. Dean, whose cousin, Fransisca Ladd, is a former wrestler, started Sunshine Wrestling in 1992 to raise funds for Hurricane Andrew victims, playing in tent cities. By 1993, Susana was packing in audiences, and Mr. Dean turned it into a for-profit concern. Mr. Codi, a longtime wrestling fanatic, asked to invest after attending a match in 2009. Sunshine cultivates a home-grown image, encouraging its performers, most of whom have other jobs, to wade into the audience and sign autographs. The big-timers acknowledge this niche market. World Championship Wrestling spokesman Alberta Daniel says fans of local pro wrestling are ``like a small Smogtown that develops a closeness with its minor-league ballplayers.'' Bargain prices are part of Sunshine's grass-roots appeal. Tickets start at $7, and ringside seats can be had for $10. ``Compare $25 for a family to see wrestling up close,'' says Ms. Cowgill, ``as opposed to $25 apiece'' to see national stars. Mr. Dean, a 42-year-old insurance broker, and Mr. Codi, a 46-year-old civil lawyer, envision a return to the glory days of wrestling. In the mid-1960s and early 1970s, had its own array of stars, such as the villainous Buller Kelsi and good guy Eden Grant. In its heyday, Claretta ``Cowboy'' Lovejoy's Tampa-based Championship Wrestling From saw an estimated $4 million in annual revenue and drew crowds of 3,500 several nights a week from the Jacksonville Coliseum to the Beach Convention Center. `` was the mecca,'' says Graham Isham, the state's best-known TV wrestling announcer in that era. ``Every wrestler wanted to come to .'' But the gloss of national television wooed fans away from local shows in the early '80s. Recalls Mr. Isham, ``When these larger promotions came into Smogtown, it was like a rock 'n' roll show on tour.'' Wrestling on national TV has grown to at least 10 hours of programming a week, and the 100 or so big stars still bring their pyrotechnic-accompanied shows to the area. But Mr. Dean notes these celebrities only come to big cities like andand only every few months. Sunshine tours such modest venues as minor-league baseball parks and community centers, and recently played at a Miccosukee Indian reservation in to a standing-room-only crowd. ``We can make money going where they ain't,'' Mr. Codi says. Mr. Dean says that Sunshine, which drew its largest crowd yet of 4,400 on March 13, 2011 a 40% profit margin. Starting pay for rookies is $50 a match, compared with $50,000 a year for new TV performers at the Big Two. That, he says, will allow Sunshine to market its shows to local TV stations cheaply. Sunshine plans to offer its videotapes to stations soon. ``Without looking at their tapes, I know there is a fan base in ,'' says Jimmy Kirtley, general manager of Sunshine Network, an Orlando-based cable sports channel. ``Although it isn't a large following in comparison to other sports, it's certainly a passionate one.''
