The Tom Platz Story - Part 1
The Tom Platz Story - Part 1
The Most Inspirational Bodybuilder Ever Talks About His Unique Time & Place in the Sport
In the ‘80s, when he was in his competitive prime, Tom Platz was the most popular bodybuilder in the world and hailed as the uncrowned Mr. Olympia and The Peoples’ Champion. If there’s one word that sums Tom up it is “passion”. Passion is what drives him in the gym, fuelled his onstage magic, guides the way he lives his life and prepares for the next one. Passion defines him. The aim of this feature is to bring Tom’s burning sense of passion to the blank page. In this first segment of his story listen to his passion, let it seep in and inspire you. There’ll never be another Tom Platz. Part Two will be posted next Wednesday, April 6.
PM: You loved the stage Tom. Expand on that?
TP: Funny you should start with that. Recently a young bodybuilder told me, “Tom, I love to train; for me that’s what it’s all about. But I don’t particularly like the stage part – I don’t see the glamour in it.” That stopped me in my tracks. I said, “What? You don’t see the glamour in the stage? Oh, my God.” I couldn’t breathe for a second, and I said, “Right I have to work with you on the importance of the stage. It has to be just as much fun and as meaningful to you as the gym. I mean, you can have the most muscle in the world, but if you can’t sell it to an audience, nobody’s going to buy it.”
With all due respect to the modern day guys, I think a love of being onstage is often missing. For me the stage was like my food. I could not live without food, and to this day, I love to go on stage. As much as I love the gym, as much as I love going in there and pounding out those reps with the heavy weights, I loved going on stage just as much.
Onstage is where you use every means possible to impress the judges and entertain the fans. You have to have an act that is your own. Our good friend Dorian had an act. He was so big the stage would bend when he walked on. His signature move was to throw his calf back and jam it into the floor so hard that it startled the judging panel and made everyone 20 rows back cover their ears. That was his act, and everybody then copied him. And they copied him by trying to get as big as possible and so we have big guts and giants lumbering about the stage with size being what everyone is pursuing, and what they are rewarded for. I’m looking forward to the day when somebody comes on the scene and invents something new that hasn’t been done, like a Brian Buchanan with Dorian or Ronnie size.
You were the ultimate stage performer. What do you think of current performances where lots of guys go from one side of the stage to the other cupping their ear and asking for applause,?
There’s a guy from the Middle East I’m coaching on presentation. I told him, “You never, ever, ask for applause.” And, he said, “Phil Heath does it, Ronnie Coleman does it, all the top guys do it.” I told him not to do it. I told him I’d never even dream of asking for applause. That’s like a waiter asking for a tip. You give it because they usually deserve it and you want to thank them for the wonderful meal that you had.
The stage is an extension of what you do in the gym, and you take all that hard work and package it and glamorize it to make it a larger than life entity on stage. You have to sell yourself and entertain. You can’t just walk on the stage looking miserable like you’re suffering. It’s not about suffering on stage or in the gym. Being a competitive bodybuilder isn’t some hard burden; it’s not a life sentence, it’s a lifestyle that encapsulates the love and the joy of what you do and who you are. To me the gym was enjoyable, it was wonderful. And, I wanted to tell my wonderful story on stage. I tell the young men and women I work with that your posing is non-verbal communication, and your posing is how you tell your story of what bodybuilding is to you and what it means.
You had maybe the most well-known signature tune of anyone, Ride Like The Wind by Christopher Cross. How did that come about?
It was early 1980 and I was driving to the gym in my ’77 baby blue Corvette along Pacific Coast Highway in Santa Monica with my girlfriend when that song came on. She said, “How about this song to pose to?” Usually I’m very critical, and say immediately, “Nah, that’s not right.” But, I just paused for maybe a good five seconds, and I said, “You know, this might be it.”
It was like the song chose me, not I chose the song. In life I think your career chooses you, you don’t choose it. Ride Like The Wind put me on the path to developing my onstage persona and my public character in general. It led to the flowing blond hair, California beach dude look on which my whole posing routine – running my fingers through my hair, flicking the striations on my thigh – was based As an entertainer who have to perfect your own style, your own brand. Early on I tried to copy Frank Zane’s poses and learned pretty quickly I wasn’t Frank. Nowadays everybody copies everybody else and they get away with it. Nobody invents something new.
In the late ‘70s when I was coming through everyone had a distinct identity. Arnold was the Austrian Oak; that guy that was big beyond belief, and he was Hollywood. And, Robby Robinson was the Black Prince. Danny Padilla, the Giant Killer. So, I had to create a character. I was a big fan of Arnold and Dave Draper and the blonde hair and the whole California beach, “Don’t Make Waves” movie [which came out in 1967 and starred Tony Curtis, the ill-fated Sharon Tate, and Dave Draper]. All that was in the back of my mind as I developed The Golden Eagle.
My whole act evolved from that song. It was something I was supposed to do in life. It was organic how the whole thing developed and grew. It was meant to be. It was like relocating to California inthe spring of 1978; I was 22 years old and had just graduated from college in Michigan. I’d finished second in the short class at the ’77 Mr. America and decided to go to California and prepare for the ’78 event. I wanted to train at Gold’s in Santa Monica, it really was the Mecca. It made no real sense. I came out like an annointed zombie with 50 bucks to my name, no return plane ticket. But I had no choice I had to make that move. There really was no choice. The choice made me, not the other way around.
I ended up living in an apartment with twenty-five people – 15 guys and 10 girls -- all pursuing an individual dream. The apartment was in Santa Monica on Seventh Street right near the 405 Freeway entrance on Lincoln Boulevard. The traffic was so noisy that if you opened the windows you couldn’t hear a thing inside the apartment. I had the couch – very important to get the couch. I got a job at the Pritikin Foundation Longevity Center right by the ocean. They promoted a low-fat, high-carb diet, and I was an odd-job person handing out beach towels and stuff. After four months I was able to afford my own place and moved out of the apartment.
As far as I know everybody from that 25, apart from two, went back to where they came from. The other two who stayed were Dave Zelon who went on to promote bodybuilding shows [several USA Championships and the 1991 Ms. Olympia which was broadcast live on ESPN]. He now works as a producer in Hollywood. And Steve Parris, who created all the clothing for the Gold’s Gym chain and other lines of apparel. We were the last three left standing in LA from that 1978 club.
Tom, what was so special about you was not only the hysteria you created among an audience but also that while doing it they thought of you as one of them who had made good. Other bodybuilders would be treated as if they came down from Mount Olympus but to an audience it was like, “Hey, Tom’s one of us – he’s our guy!”
Well, I really think I was and am one of them. I was one of the – as you would say -- blokes from the working class neighborhood. That’s where I came from and why I can relate to Dorian so well. I come from a Birmingham type neighborhood. I grew up in Pittsburgh where everybody worked in a steel mill. That’s my people, that’s who I am. And even though I developed the onstage persona I did, I was still one of the regular guys. When I went on stage and played The Golden Eagle, I always knew who I was and where I came from, there was no question of that.
At your last Mr. Olympia in 1986 Mr. Olympia, you started to pose to Ride Like The Wind and then after a minute changed to Twist and Shout by the Beatles (See sidebar: Eaglemania). What was the thinking there?
I knew I was coming to the end of my career and I wanted to present something different. I always looked upon the Olympia as a day of celebration. Although the Beatles Twist and Shout was released in 1963 I’d heard it again in the 1986 movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and I knew the minute I heard it was the track to fit the day of celebration mood. Again the music really selected me.
The contest was at the Veterans Memorial Hall in Columbus and promoted by Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jim Lorimer. I’ve never seen an audience reaction like the one that happened when you posed. Three times you were brought back onstage for an encore and that never happens. How do you remember it?
After the routine I walked backstage and was in a special zone. I knew the crowd reaction that night had surpassed anything I had experienced. I was walking toward Arnold and he was just looking at me like he was stunned with his eyes as wide as can be. As I got to him he just gasped, “Tom!” And then he hugged me and said, “Wow!” Neither of us could explain or put into words what had just happened, although it was probably something like, “Forget about the money, forget about the trophy. That, that, is the why we’re here!” It was like, “I would train for 25 more years for no money, for one more night like that. That night is a gift from God.”
That was the supreme moment of me connecting with an audience. I knew that audience, because I was a member of the audience for many years. Even as a member of the audience I would watch other members and knew they wanted to go on a ride. And, so having recognized what an audience really wants, whenever I transitioned to the stage, I’d say, “I’m going to give them permission to go on the ride.” Because, I believe an audience wants to be entertained, wants to be inspired and wants to go on that ride in wonderment. So the performer has to say, “I’m up here doing this, but you can come on up here, live it with me and feel the ride. You can feel the love and the passion of what I do, and it’s okay because it’s what you do, too.” And, there’s a willingness for an audience to do that, and I could feel that. When I walked on stage, I could feel the audience being ready to go on the ride, like they were in an amusement park. And, I would make it okay by I giving them that non-verbal permission to ride with me.
In Part Two (to be posted Wednesday, April 6) opens up about how he came to retire so abruptly and how he became the most inspirational and popular bodybuilder of his era.
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