When professional wrestling in the Pacific Northwest was at its peak in the late 1960s and early 1970s, fans flocked to Portland’s arenas not just to see blood feuds and hard-hitting contests, but to witness the outlandish antics of a man who blurred the line between performance art, rock-and-roll rebellion, and sports entertainment. His name was Beauregarde—sometimes billed as Beautiful Beauregarde or the Sensation of the Nation.
Born Larry A. Pitchford on April 29, 1936, in Lima, Ohio, Beauregarde would carve out a career that was less about technical wrestling excellence and more about charisma, creativity, and controversy. A heel before “cool villains” became the standard, a showman before gimmicks were scripted down to the last line, Beauregarde was a pioneer of character-driven wrestling.
And like many wrestlers who lived ahead of their time, he found expression not only in the ring but in the recording studio—leaving behind a cult-classic rock record that connected him to a whole different countercultural audience.
From Golden Boy to Villain
Beauregarde’s wrestling career began in 1963, when he toured the Philippines under the name Eric the Golden Boy. The moniker fit his blond hair and athletic frame, but it didn’t fit the man’s instincts. Pitchford thrived less as a straightforward good guy and more as an arrogant, conniving villain who could rile up a crowd just by smirking.
When he moved to Hawaii, fellow wrestler Ripper Collins rechristened him Beauregarde, and the name stuck. Soon, he was back stateside, particularly in Portland, Oregon, where Pacific Northwest Wrestling (PNW) became his home turf.
By the late 1960s, Beauregarde was one of the territory’s most recognizable faces. He held the NWA Pacific Northwest Tag Team Championship five times between 1968 and 1971, partnering with notable names like Lonnie Mayne, Roger Kirby, The Claw, and Dutch Savage.
But it wasn’t the belts that made him famous—it was the personality.
A Character Chameleon
Unlike many wrestlers who stuck to one gimmick, Beauregarde treated every match as an opportunity to reinvent himself. On any given night, he might walk into the arena claiming to be Napoleon Bonaparte, George Washington, or even a long-dead Roman emperor—tying his persona to whichever historical figure’s birthday matched that date. He lived to disorient, to confuse, and to entertain, often blurring the line between parody and menace.
His in-ring style was equally unorthodox. His finishing move, simply called “The Thumb”, was a brazen poke to the throat or eyes—a blatant violation of the rules delivered with such flair that crowds howled in outrage. While fans came to boo him, they secretly loved the spectacle.
In many ways, Beauregarde predated the cartoonish flamboyance of the 1980s, when wrestling became dominated by larger-than-life characters. He was a proto–Ric Flair in his arrogance, a proto–Macho Man in his flair for reinvention, and a proto–Chris Jericho in his blending of wrestling with outside cultural ventures.
The Wrestler Who Rocked
If his antics in the ring weren’t enough, Beauregarde etched his name in another arena: music. In 1971, at the height of his wrestling career, he released a self-titled rock album—Beauregarde. The record has since become a collector’s item, not just for wrestling historians but also for fans of underground rock, because it featured a teenage guitarist who would go on to cult fame: Greg Sage, later frontman of the Portland punk band Wipers.
Beauregarde had discovered Sage when the young musician was just 17, overhearing him at Sound Productions studio in Portland. He was so impressed that he recruited Sage to play guitar on his record, a wild fusion of wrestling bravado and heavy, fuzz-laden rock riffs. The album was part gimmick, part genuine passion project—much like the man himself.
While it never broke into mainstream charts, Beauregarde earned a place in the strange intersection of wrestling and music, standing alongside albums by Jesse Ventura, Jimmy Hart, and later Chris Jericho’s Fozzy as an example of wrestlers reaching beyond the squared circle.
Manager and Mouthpiece
By the mid-1970s, Beauregarde transitioned into a new role: manager. His gift for talking, insulting, and stirring up emotion made him a natural fit. In 1973, he managed Brute Bernard and Jay York in Jim Crockett’s Mid-Atlantic Championship Wrestling. As a manager, he played up his “Beautiful Beauregarde” persona, wearing flashy suits and injecting chaos into every storyline he touched.
Though he was never a national headliner in the NWA system, he left an imprint wherever he went. For fans in Portland, Hawaii, and the Carolinas, Beauregarde was unforgettable—an irritant you loved to hate.
Life After Wrestling
By 1979, Beauregarde retired from the ring. Wrestling was changing—regional territories were under pressure from Vince McMahon’s national expansion, and the Portland scene that had sustained him was losing ground. Rather than cling to the business, Beauregarde shifted gears entirely.
He bought a sheet-rock company in Florida, where he lived a quieter life. Fishing became his main passion, a sharp contrast to the chaos of his wrestling years. But even in retirement, the wrestling community never forgot him.
In 2006, Beauregarde made a rare return appearance at Hardkore Championship Wrestling’s Incredible 8 Tournamentin South Florida. There, he received an Honorable Contribution to Wrestling Award, alongside fellow veterans Rusty Brooks, Stephen “Big Daddy” DiBlasio, and “Outlaw” JR James. For fans who remembered his glory days, it was a reminder of how much he had contributed to the wild tapestry of wrestling’s past.
Final Years and Passing
Beauregarde lived out his later years in Pennsylvania, eventually residing in a nursing home in Honesdale. On July 22, 2024, he passed away at the age of 88, the final curtain call on a life that blended spectacle, controversy, and creativity.
For those who knew him in the Pacific Northwest circuit, his passing marked the loss of a key figure from a golden era of territorial wrestling. For music aficionados, it was the end of a quirky, unexpected chapter in rock history. And for wrestling fans at large, Beauregarde remains a symbol of what the business was before the corporate polish of modern wrestling—wild, eccentric, and completely unpredictable.
Championships and Legacy
Beauregarde’s championship résumé is modest compared to others of his generation:
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NWA Pacific Northwest Tag Team Championship (5 times)
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with Dutch Savage (1)
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with Lonnie Mayne (2)
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with Roger Kirby (1)
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with The Claw (1)
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But titles were never the point. His true legacy was character work—his willingness to experiment, to play villains and caricatures, and to transform wrestling into something more theatrical.
In that sense, Beauregarde was both a product of his era and ahead of it. He bridged the serious, kayfabe-driven days of the NWA with the over-the-top theatrics that would define the 1980s and beyond. His album stands as proof that he saw wrestling as just one stage in a much larger performance.
Conclusion
Larry “Beauregarde” Pitchford will never be as famous as Ric Flair, Hulk Hogan, or Randy Savage, but his career tells us something important about the DNA of professional wrestling. Long before WWE branded itself as “sports entertainment,” Beauregarde was treating wrestling as a vehicle for performance art, comedy, music, and wild creativity.
He was a man who pretended to be Napoleon in the ring, ended matches with “The Thumb,” and recorded an album with a teenage guitarist who would later influence punk rock. He was, in short, unforgettable—a man who lived for the show.
And as the curtain falls on Beauregarde’s life, wrestling fans can look back with a smile and say: he made them boo, he made them laugh, and he made them believe in the power of personality.