Bareknucks Fight

1975

Posted by Simguy on 7/18/2005, 1:16 am.

(Non-Simulated)

The story of how a Carter/Grier topless, bar knuckle brawl got made is a textbook example of slipslod management, hubris, greed and poor judgment in the annals of celebrity fisticuffs. That carter, then an emerging young talent set to take over the airways as Wonder Woman would ever have been allowed to go hard with Ms. Badass herself in in retrospect one of the most bewildering choices ever made for and by a blue chip prospect on her way up.

“She didn’t need the fight,” recalled the then-brunette Loni Anderson, who had attended the battle in person. “Lynda was on top, ready to explode, but she was still a year or so away from her fighting peak, She could have coasted with cupcake bouts and set ups, but her people thought Pam was shot, and obviously, beating up Pam Grier bareknuckle would have put Lynda in a different category altogether. I was there to scout Lynda and I saw Raquel’s matchmaker along with some other big name fighters and all of us agreed: Grier was am awfully tough not at that point for carter.”

Lynda’s confidence had some basis in merit. Pam Grier had fought the toughest, hardest fighters on the margins of the Hollywood scene--Gloria Hendry, Nichelle Nichols, Tura Satana, Sybil Danning--fights of such brutality that many in the business had amused that by 1975, Pam Grier had wasted her vast talent in one murderous but obscure brawl after another. Lynda Carter was fresh, largely untested big and strong: why no establish her credibility once and for all against the still-bad, but faded legend?

The womaen would fight poolside at an undisclosed Southern California hotel location before a small but influential crowd of industry execs, fellow fighters and big name fans. White plastic lounge chairs and tables dotted the fighting terrain, and high hedges surrounded the scene. Pam would sport black panties and tan lace-up knee boots, with her hair dressed in tight, shiny curls. Lynda fought with her hair drawn back into a slick top-knot ponytail, lollipop red trunks, and black suede knee boots laced up the front.

Pam was still raising her dukes and clenching her fists when Lynda leaned into a crashing right hand haymaker to the chin, turning Ms. Grier and sending her staggering away with a stunned look of shock splattered across her face. Carter clattered after her, jugs a-swinging, legs uncertainly stepping in a precious trot: the footwear though period-fashionable would hinder both women throughout the vicious affair. Lynda reached for Pam’s hips and promptly absorbed Grier’s back-thrusting elbow tip in the gut--Grier’s teeth bared, Lynda’s startled face stretched bleak with pain over Pam’s right shoulder. Without turning around, Grier dropped her hand down and crotch slapped Lynda with a practiced gesture: Pam had been throwing that elbow/crotch routine for years and carter was all bunched up it. Now Pam turned, came forward, touching Lynda’s chest with measuring fingertips of the left hand and smashing her face a tasty right cross. Carter stumbled backward, mouth agape: she wanted it hard and she was getting it as Grier stormed in.

Pam landed swinging lefts and rights, torquing Lynda’s head, driving her backward and finally sending her crashing onto a white patio table which shattered under the under weight with a crash.  Dazed, carter, struggled to her knees while Pam circled, lifting hr elbows up as she hoisted a meanspirited kick into Lynda’s pale ribs, rolling a groaning Carter onto her back. Grier wiped her lips and sorted out her panties with a quick flick of both index fingers. Lynda rolled back and forth on her back amidst cheap rubble, moaning, embracing her boot-beaten ribs. It was everything Pam could have asked for, and she sneered as she approached, intent on applying a quick coup de grace, but Lynda wasn’t about to roll over so quickly.

Lifting a desperation boot into Pam’s belly, Lynda sent Grier sprawling with a shout of pain and both beauties took a moment to get gingerly to their feet. Now they circled, eyes flashing, fists clenched tightly at chest height, stalking each other with groggy hate. Gently rolling her fists, carter began to pump her jab, spanking back Pam’s face and earning some respect as Pam glared, regrouped, Jab, step. Jab, step. Carter slowed down the action and had Grier momentarily befuddled: Miss USA had formal skills from years of Pageant competition--it was class Pam hadn’t accounted for.

Still, this was bare-knuckle fighting. Tasting her own blood from a cut lower lip, Pam finally answered Lynda’s poking stick with a greats winging boot to the groin--Grier with her hands over her head, the right leg snapping off trunks with a showy thump. Poor Lynda sobbed, butt back, chest out, legs wide and trembly--she was hurt again and vulnerable as Grier surged over to the offensive.

Taking Lynda’s right writs in her left hand, Pam stepped in close, shoving her right hand deep to Lynda’s pouting tummy, shunting those world-class hips back and pouting tummy, shunting those world-class hips back and putting Carter’s cheek moist against the top of Pam’s breasts. Grier grinned,, loving the feel of Carter’s shuddering body against her, and reloading, she shoved another brutal right hand short to gut. Lynda made a snuffling, blubbering noise against Pam’s chest, and desperately reached around Grier’s slick waist with a loose left arm.

Grier snuggled in close, reaching her left arm under Lynda’s right, allowing Carter to ride her left around Pam’s hips, and Grier went to work thick to the body of Lynda. Pam’s right hand wedged in past Lynda’s outstretched left,. Fitting in above carter’s hip and drawing breathy whimpers from the brunette, Budging Lynda’s torso while turning her hips, Pam squirmed so that she could thrust her right hands directly up into Lynda’s midsection while cradling her in a strong left arm; Carter’s long, proud legs shook in protest--her breath panted out in short, hot blasts. Grier was just getting up into Lynda and taking, alternately cradling with either arm to free up the opposite hand and plugging away. Pam smiled and grunted as she worked, establishing a familiar dominance and having her way with yet another pretender. As Carter soaked, hanging off Grier like a damp dishcloth, members of the crowd shook their heads and clicked their tongues. Nobody wanted to say “I told you so,” but everyone seems to be saying it anyway.

And then Lynda Carter started punching back.

Her face clammy, eyes waxy with pain, her legs trembling, Lynda Carter proved herself to be special by shoving a hard right hand flat to Pam’s ribs, drawing an outraged shout of pain from the legend. Slugging boozily, eyelashes fluttering, Carter managed to add a left and another right to the waist, backing Pam up. Boot heels scuffed and clacked on flagstone as the girls staggered for position. Grier’s eyes blazed as she retreated, then lowered her shoulder to stack Lynda up--the girls were digging in like mules, pressing in cheek by jowl, pushing at one another’s biceps underneath, hips well back to support fat swinging body blows. They shoved and slugged, taking turns pushing each other back and helping themselves to ribs, tummy and tits. They struggled and clinched, both mouths openly gulping for air, eyes wincing with strain. They strapped and shellacked each other robust, wanton rights and lefts to the body, punishing each other with an increasingly mindless rhythm.

Lynda was the first to change tactics, sliding her arms under Pam’s and pulling the coffee-colored beauty into a breathing hug. Grier groaned, hoisted onto her toes, her face contorted in pain as she clutched at Carter’s shoulders. Jug to massive jug. It was perhaps the beefiest hug ever applied to Pam straight up. She threw her head back--she groaned--she toed the stone at their feet as carter arched her back and poured on Amazonian pressure.

Grier was beginning to go out--mouth wide open, eyes closed, eyebrows arched high in disbelief--desperately she reached around Carter’s broad white back and took hold of that glossy ponytail in both hands, wrenching down with fading strength. Carter’s head tugged back; she cried aloud and lost her grip. Pam quickly reshuffled her weight and lifted an expert thigh thick and moist up between Carter’s legs. The crowd groaned in unison; Carter sobbed and sank to one knee; Pam stumbled away, her right hand at her head as she fought t clear the cobwebs. It was a respite for both women; Lynda moaning, kneeling, achingly  getting to her feet and breathing hard, hands on scraped knees, Pam clutched at her back and grimaced, stalking in a wide circle, glaring at her fie. Those that knew her knew that Pam had acquired a taste for Lynda, was now hungry for her and would do whatever it would take to conquer her. Those that knew Lynda didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling: she had never been in such straits before.

Pam mov3ed in to press the pace. The girls reached for each other gently, pushing and measuring each other with fingertips, then Pam clouted a right hand firm to Lynda’s mouth, Lynda staggered, head lolling, dukes up at her chest as she blinked: Pam stepped and belted her again--right hand, hard on chin, Pam walked Lynda down--Carter reeled, absorbing face punches and busting up…

A right, left,  right spun Lynda --sent her crashing into lounge chairs and sprawling in new plastic rubble…

A set back for Grier:  Pam too confident, too reckless--she fell between Lynda’s lethal legs for a punishing scissors sequence. Lynda exerted herself, got on both palms while her legs bisected Pam’s middle: Grier lay on her back, face taut, purpling with agony, her hands pushing against Lynda’s quivering thighs. Carters breath hissed in short huffs through clenched teeth as she worked her foe’s torso; Grier blurted out in pain at times--at others, her lips clamped together in tortured silence. Carter was an all-time great with the leg scissors--her feet wrapping and unwrapping, her thighs cinching and flexing against Pam’s trembling waist--it was all Grier could do not to submit in these moments. Only when Pam worked her way in stages to sit in front of Lynda was she able to lay back against Carter and dig her elbow repeatedly into Lynda’s ribcage. Lynda sank back breathless, her legs relaxing like sunflower petals in the dawn, her arms hugging her throbbing torso, Both women lay shuddering and moaning, taking a breathless moment to recover…

From behind Lynda, Pam palmed both carters hips and thrust a vicious knee up into the buttock, dropping Carter with a breathy whine to one knee so that Pam could rest, walk around, fix her trunks an d carefully consider next move…

Pam worked away at Lynda’s head with right hands as Carter knelt, Lynda stupidly pawing at Grier’s thighs and tummy with light brushing hands. Pam steadied Lynda with the left, hammering away to the hairline on Carter, stunning her with great gonging blows that left the brunette reeling…

Grier cupped Lynda about the ears and spun her: the sight of Lynda’s long legs off balance, her jugs swinging miserably, her arms pin wheeling brought winces to the faces of her supporters…

Pam went to work on Carter’s legs--kicking her inside both thighs, drawing fresh cries of pain and leaving Lynda standing in rickety, constipated poses, Pam stood to the side and kicked great swinging right boots into Lynda’s hams and buttock--Carter throwing her head back, screaming piteously into the humid afternoon air, clutching at ruined quads. These systematic attacks were crippling and Carter was a pathetic sight, hobbling away with a stricken expression as Grier stalked patiently from behind.

Payback for that hug: Pam got in behind Lynda, sat her down, hugged her up across breasts and poured it on. Pam was in no hurry, sitting on her haunches, her chin resting on Lynda’s left shoulder, Pam squeezed and cinched. Lynda’s cries rent the air as she laid her head back prettily onto Pam’s shoulder. Lynda rocked on her buttocks, wearily trying to twist her way out. Lynda pulled at Pam’s forearms, Lynda sobbed and dropped her palms to the ground, suffering in Grier’s grip. Pam was using Lynda up in these moments, breaking Lynda’s heart…

On their knees, facing each other: Pam with her left hand held a swaying Carter by the waistband of he crimson trunks--Carter’s arms dangled at her sides, her lead lolled, eyelashes fluttering. Pam worked mechanically, shrugging in short right hands on the chin, steadying Lynda by her trunks, tugging her to, preventing her from slumping to ground. The look on Pam’s face: war-weary, determined, hungry…

“You never wanted a young prospect in with Pam because of the risk of ruining her,” recalled Loni Anderson in her memoirs. “I knew when Grier mounted Lynda that Carter might never be the same. It was too hard a beating--the beating I had hoped to give to Lynda--but there Pam was, greedy little pig at the trough, helping herself to extra, carter’s hands kind of groped and pushed at Pam’s belly as Grier laid in the spice--drifting right hands onto the face. She was punching like she hated Lynda and it gave me chills just seeing how limp Carter’s body was, how her gave was all slack as she kept taking hits, but how she was still vaguely aware of what was happening to her.”

After the short, crisp volley of mounted rights had rendered Lynda helpless, Pam leaned forward onto all fours, straddling Lynda’s upper body. Dimly, Carter reached up to the hot belly above her, pushing against it and whimpering. Grier was enjoying herself now, stringing it out, Poor Lynda’s face was a puffy, swollen mess all bruised and hurting, and Pam lowered herself onto that face in stages, exulting in the slow collapse of Lynda’s protesting arms. Pam grinned as she sealed her gigantic breasts against Carter’s glowing face, snuggling her arms  up behind Carter’s head and rolling onto her back to fold Lynda’s hips beneath her legs. Carter’s cries came as muffled whimpers--her hands pushing on the ground, then reaching up underneath to pull feebly at Pam’s shoulders., Lynda’s boots and knees scraped fitfully against stone, then stopped their pathetic activity as Pam’s jugs began to close the show. A badly battered Lynda Carter gave it up on Pam’s belly, face snug and wet between the most dominant melons in Hollywood.

There is much debate concerning the long term effects of this fight on Lynda Carter throughout the rest of her career. She would emerge as a legend of the 70s in her own right and is rightfully considered an all-time pound form pound great boxing or wrestling. But many critics contend that the grier beating had made Carter gunshy and had taken the edge off her game whenever things got tough down the line. She was frequently bullied in fights by roughhousing women who had learned from the Grier example. And many felt she quit when attacked vigorously to the trunks. On the other hand, Pam Grier had silenced her detractors once again, would go on to give Loni Anderson a fearful pasting, but the fight she most wanted remained elusive. After hearing of Carter’s crushing dismissal, Raquel Welch immediately postponed all talk of a Grier/Welch superbout, instituting instead a cynical policy which saw Pam fight an endless series of tough wear-down bouts for another year and a half. As is often rumored, Welch reportedly said, “I’m too pretty to fight Pam Grier,” when asked about a summer of ‘75 showdown with the baddest badass of them all.

Reposted by Archer 6/17/11.