This was a neat little story from Ken Leistner about the time he met Bill Pearl as a young guy, it's nice and rather wholesome -
"When Jack and I arrived in Los Angeles, we made a beeline to Bill Pearl’s Gym on Manchester Avenue in Inglewood. We remained mindful of the destructive riots that had occurred there in the recent past, and understood immediately that we were not in the nicest neighborhood. As we prepared to begin our California adventure and what we believed would be a significant learning experience, we drove past Pearl’s Gym and saw, standing in front, Bill himself. Huge, muscular to the point that even an overly large sweatshirt could not hide his development, Bill appeared other worldly, and a bit dangerous with his goatee and glower.
Wait. Bill did not have a goatee, and as one of the nicest men in the Iron Game, was never seen, at least not in public, with a stare that would have melted even the baddest of the bad guys on the street. Jack looked at me, I returned his startled look and we ducked my old Ford into a parking space. As we unfolded ourselves from the car, congratulating ourselves on arriving safely and in the warp-speed time of fifty-four hours despite the unscheduled delay with law enforcement in Amarillo, we cautiously approached the front of the gym. Wanting to just blurt out a greeting to Bill, we realized as we were almost upon this tremendously developed bodybuilder that it was in fact, not Bill Pearl. We said hello, Jack introduced himself, and we could then tell the world that we knew or at least had met, Bill’s little known but bigger-than-Bill-brother, Harold Pearl. Our great adventure had officially begun.
Our excitement in finally arriving in California was in part due to the expectation that we would discover as yet unknown secrets, secrets that would allow some sort of miraculous and rapid increase in muscular size and strength. Within us, there was also a hope, if not an expectation, that all of the sets, reps, and dietary manipulation we had developed were in fact, correct, and that we had not wasted a lot of precious training time. We knew top level contest winners in our home area but we were certainly jerked into a state of reality meeting Bill Pearl’s brother Harold. The impression he made has lasted to this day.
Bill Pearl was huge, and usually maintained a bodyweight, as he told us, of approximately 225 pounds. He said that when he prepared for contests, he would first diet down and then gain weight. This was a rather unique theory for us because everyone that we knew on the east coast that either lifted in the relatively new sport of powerlifting, or competed as a contest level bodybuilder, first allowed their weight to go up, becoming as big and strong as possible, and then trimmed down, to either enter a specific weight classification or become more defined. Bill would first reduce his body fat levels, bring his overall weight down, and then build muscle on top of that.
Bill’s approach was unique, and at this time he was in fact preparing for a major contest and series of posing exhibitions, and thus was going up. His goal was 240 pounds but whatever Harold’s weight was at this same time, it was enough to make Bill, with no disrespect intended towards one of the greatest physiques of all time, appear to be “just one of the lifting guys” when standing around in street clothes. Harold was wide, thick, and scary!
Before we departed on our great adventure, we had been told a little about Harold but that “little bit” was enough to make us wary. With a number of top level physique competitors and odd-lift contest trainees in the storefront gym we frequented, the “inside news” about the name lifters and bodybuilders around the country was often a topic of conversation. Because a few of the fellows had traveled to California or competed in different states, we were fairly certain we received the “real story” about many of the stars.
We knew that Harold had spent time in prison, which was not an unusual occurrence among many we were acquainted with, but we were also told that while in prison, he had amped up his training and gone as high as 303 pounds while maintaining no more than a thirty-seven-inch waist. To add an exclamation point to that description, we listened to a more detailed presentation of a guy who no one messed with, even in prison, who was as strong as he was large, and who was Bill’s polar opposite in temperament.
“The brothers have huge physiques, everyone knows who Bill Pearl is, but Harold is bigger. That thirty-seven-inch waist measurement wasn’t all sucked in, this guy is really all muscle and he doesn’t have much to say.” At least that was one definitive description we received. Harold was nice enough while I stood back a bit and Jack introduced himself and said that Bill “knows I’m supposed to be here.” It was enough to get us through the front door of the gym on Manchester Avenue and we sort of stared at each other and shook our heads as if to say, “If the guys out here are as big as Harold, we really don’t know what we’re doing” and it wasn’t as if Jack at 225 pounds, and myself at 230 were small.
We looked around and were greeted by Larry, the proprietor of the juice bar that was located within the gym, in what was more or less a side room. Of course, the entire gym was so unlike what we were used to. Not fancy or large by today’s standards, it was very much other-worldly to us with its outdoor swimming pool, skylights, varied selection of equipment, very muscular guys, and the juice bar. Who had a juice bar in a gym? I’m not sure we had ever seen a juice bar prior to this, but Larry, who himself was short, stocky, and an obvious lifter, was friendly and said that Bill was due in shortly.
He asked if we wanted a drink and, “Of course, “a protein shake, please” would have been and was the obvious response. When he opened a can of MLO protein powder, yet another revelation struck me: “A brand of protein powder I have not seen before – how much don’t I know?” I had actually spent many years having my entire family remind me of the vast amount of knowledge I didn’t possess but I thought I had a handle on protein powder. The Hoffman, Weider, and Blair names were the big ones, but MLO was new to me, a brand produced by Millard Williamson, winner of a number of the local Mr. Muscle Beach type of contests, and a chemist. I also knew about some of what to my interpretation were brands of “old people’s protein powder,” like Schiff’s, but because lifters and bodybuilders never mentioned these, it was as if they did not exist.
Remember our sources of “legitimate information” did not extend past the muscle magazines and word-of-mouth education inside the gyms and garages where we trained. Another of my many jobs had me stocking shelves in the only health food store in the area. Fulton Health Foods in Hempstead was not geared to bodybuilding but more towards the “physical culture” crowd, offering a lot of soy based “fake meat” products, organic foods, and supplements. While some of Hoffman’s offerings were displayed, we sold primarily Schiff products that I believed were for “non-athletes.” The elderly owners of the store, a lovely husband and wife team who were die-hard devotees of “clean living” and devout religious activity, served their corresponding clientele with Schiff Bio-Foods products which were actually of very high quality. Schiff began as a whey production company and expanded to vitamin, mineral, and brewer’s yeast supplements. They filled a market that developed during World War II for dried or dehydrated products, including a soy based powder meant to be a source of dietary protein. If however, the weight training populace was not using a product, we didn’t think much of it.
We gazed at the handwritten board above the juice bar counter and saw “Guava Juice” and “Mango,” and I would have been embarrassed to make the admission that I had no clue what these exotic sounding things were. Larry explained that he was going to college and studying nutrition and that he had recently bought the juice bar from Pat Casey who had moved down the coast to open his own gym, although he still trained with many from the Bill “Peanuts” West crew on weekends.
While I was trying to take in so much new information, Harold came in, sat down next to us, asked Jack how he came to know his brother, and reached around the juice bar counter… for a large glass and a bottle of Wild Turkey Bourbon!
Harold proceeded to pour a full drinking or “milk glass,” twelve full ounces of Wild Turkey, stare at us, and gulp it down. We were speechless, and watched him walk onto the gym floor. Believing in a muscle magazine-driven lifestyle that warned against cigarettes, alcohol, and late night carousing, I was stunned, especially when looking at what could have been the largest muscular physique I had seen up to that point in time.
In Bill Pearl’s 2003 book, “Beyond The Universe – The Bill Pearl Story,” he is clear that for much of their lives he and his older brother Harold had a contentious relationship, highlighted by many physical confrontations. They made peace at a much later age, but after I got to know Bill a bit, he conceded that Harold was often “not a very nice guy,” and there was no doubt he could kick almost anyone’s ass if he chose to do so. I was also told by gym members on that very first visit that he did in fact, often choose to do so! His version of a juice bar drink would not be one that we believed should be copied to become bigger and stronger.
When Bill arrived, he was told that “some guys from New York were here to see him,” and he was no doubt disappointed that he was looking at Jack and me instead of Chris Dickerson and Dennis Tinerino, both of whom traveled to Bill’s on occasion for training instruction and information. He could not have been more gracious, and he treated Jack like a long-time acquaintance instead of a fan who had written a series of inquiring letters. In a society that was much less consumer driven than it is today, Bill’s attitude and behavior were more typical among weight training comrades than not. As we spoke, Bill asked where we had arranged to stay during our time in California. Of course, this rather minor point was never discussed, and I don’t believe Jack and I had given it the slightest bit of consideration. The goal was to get to Southern California and get a lot stronger and bigger. We obviously had to live some place, but in truth not once did that come up in our hasty conversations or my conscious thoughts prior to leaving New York.
Again the ultimate gentleman, Bill explained that the increasing violence in the neighborhood had recently driven him and his wife Judy out of the apartment he had on the second floor above the gym, and they had moved into a house in a safer, quieter neighborhood. He further stated that if it “wasn’t complicated by the current circumstances, you guys could stay upstairs for a few months.”
The “current circumstances” as Bill clarified, included the fact that Harold was “living up there with three women.” Again, we were dumbfounded, but Bill said, “Yeah, I don’t know if they’re all up there at the same time, I don’t ask, but he has three regulars that stay with him, so it would get a little bit uncomfortable if you guys were up there too.” The last thing I saw myself doing was sharing an apartment with Harold Pearl, who might have believed I was infringing upon his privacy. Wanting to remain alive and without broken bones for a while longer, I thanked Bill for his thoughtfulness. He then said, “If you guys want to sleep on the floor of the gym, I could lock you in for the night but I’m back by 4:30 AM or so to start training. Let me know.”
From my perspective, wrapping up in a sleeping bag in Bill Pearl’s Gym was infinitely better than almost any other lodging offer one could ever get. Wow, we could add muscle just from being in the building where so many greats had trained. I did give thought to the huge weights that were lifted by the powerlifters, football players, track athletes and Olympians, bodybuilders, and the Pearl Brothers themselves, and considered that sleeping on the floor might have some sort of secondary growth effect. We wanted to train then and there, but explained to Bill that while it was still early in the day, we also wanted to locate and meet Rheo H. Blair. Bill freely stated that “he has some good products,” so we promised to return in the evening.
We had our “audience” with Rheo H. Blair, and decided to return the next day to pick up our protein powder and the supplements we could afford. We then began our return trip to Pearl’s Gym for our first California workout. Of course we were exhausted from our non-stop cross country drive, our lack of food, relative dehydration, and running-around-like-madmen activities on our first day in Los Angeles. No matter – we were there to train. Even Bill suggested that we slow it down and acclimate for a day but we figured that every day, if not every minute, counted, so we trained, albeit lighter and easier than usual.
One of our first “lessons” came as we completed our workout. Sensing that we were poor and had little to wear, or perhaps that we were so hip that we were capable of pulling off the ultimate in Los Angeles area lifting fashion, Bill showed us to a small room near the locker room area. The Lost And Found baskets were there, filled with sweatshirts, shorts, and yes, old and previously worn jock straps that had been pulled out of the lockers of former members or those tossed from the gym for non-payment or more serious transgressions.
Bill explained that “the guys” – meaning all of the big lifters, football players, and track and field athletes in his gym – wore oversized sweatshirts that were then cut down at the sleeves and at the bottom hemline, to allow for unrestricted upper extremity movement while training. These oversized garments also made for a larger-than-expected appearance. He sensed that we either couldn’t afford the trip to the local Army-Navy store where his gym members and friends purchased these double or triple extra-large sweatshirts, or he just felt that giving these items to us from the discarded bin was the fastest and easiest way to get us into the Southern California training ensemble.
We weren’t offended, but rather flattered that Bill Pearl himself would think highly enough of us to help dress us correctly for “proper” training. We knew enough to ask directions to the nearest Laundromat before actually putting anything on but taking a few huge sweatshirts, washing them, and then cutting off the bottoms and sleeves up to elbow level more than doubled our available wardrobes. "
Full version here -
https://startingstrength.com/article/west_coast_impressions_a_random_journey . It's very long, going from East to West Coast.
