Dick Tyler: Zuver's Gym

That Powerlifter’s Paradise, Zuvers
Excerpted from
West Coast Bodybuilding Scene
by Dick Tyler

“You wouldn’t believe it,” said one of them, “it’s the most incredible thing I ever saw.”
Hmm, that got my attention so I strained to hear more.

“The place has more weight than I’ve ever seen in my life,” he continued, “and the apparatus defies description.”

That did it.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Zuver’s gym.”

“What’s gym?”

“Zuver’s. It’s the most incredible gym I’ve ever seen.”

He proceeded to tell me things that didn’t seem real, so I dismissed the whole bit, thinking the guy was smoking something weird. I would have kept this line of reasoning if I hadn’t begun to later hear similar stories. Each tale seemed to get wilder than the one before.

Finally I heard tell of a wall that had been handbuilt by Bob Zuver from boulders averaging a ton apiece. It sounded like one boulder too many for me. The next thing I knew I was calling Zuver and arranging a story.

Try as I might I couldn’t convince Zeller the stories about Zuver’s Gym were for real.

“Look,” he said as we drove along the freeway to Costa Mesa where the gym was located. “I’ll take the shots for you, but a gym is a gym is a gym is a gym. The only thing that really makes one different from another are the guys who train there.”

I looked out the window at the passing palm trees that seemed to glory in the winter California sun.

“Guess we won’t know till we get there.”

Zuver’s Gym is located in the little southern California city of Costa Mesa, a few miles south of Long Beach. As we pulled up, I noticed a small sign shaped like a dumbbell. On it was printed the name of the gym. That was the last small thing either Art or I were to see while we were there. We got out of the car and walked a few paces until we reached the sign. Only then did we realize the gym was set back off the street. Leading from the street to the front was a long promenade. On either side were potted plants and between those plants were Zuver Olympic barbell plates.

What plates they were! Molded into the facing of each was a golden muscle man spread-eagled so it appeared as if he were holding the rims apart. As we got closer to the front door, the plates went from fifty pounds to 200 pounds apiece! That’s what I said—each plate weighed as much as 200 pounds.

There, finally, looming in front of us was the massive wall I had heard about. In front of that was a spectacular fountain. A draw-bridge crossed what seemed like a moat. All this was surrounded by a massive chain that entwined over an archway that was surmounted by a loaded Olympic set. We hadn’t even reached the door and I had enough for a story.

“Hi,” said a voice. I looked to see a good-looking man with a pleasant smile. “I’m Bob Zuver.” We shook hands.

“That wall…” I said shaking my head.

“That wall,” said Zuver, “weighs sixty-five tons. Each boulder you see weighs an average of 2,000 pounds.”

“That must have cost a fortune to build,” I said.

Zuver smiled. “Not so much when you build it yourself.”

“You really built that by yourself?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s right, my sons and I took the truck and went as far as 120 miles into the mountains to get the boulders. It took a lot of time, but the boys in the gym helped and we all had fun building it.”

Now I was getting a little tense. Was this guy pulling my leg?

“Over here is the big doorbell,” said Zuver as he pointed to a huge bell. Then he walked over to an enormous key. “And this…”

“Don’t tell me,” I interrupted. “The big key.”

“Right. Which fits into the big keyhole.”

“Which opens the big door,” I said.

“Right again,” said Zuver. “I guess you’ve noticed how I refer to everything as ‘big’.”
“I’ve noticed.”

“That’s because I want everyone who trains here to think big and to act big. However, if he’s too big to be nice, he’s too big for the gym. Christ, and our faith in him, is big. Shouldn’t our lives try to match the bigness of that faith?”

I looked at him intently. His eyes were set. He believed what he was saying. It gave me a nice feeling.

“Now here we have the big door handle,” he continued, “which is a dumbbell that weighs 320 pounds. The big door alone weighs 4,000 pounds and took a year to build. It’s perfectly balanced and even a child can open it.”

With that he opened the big door. If the outside startled me, it was nothing compared to the explosion of sights that greeted Art and me as the huge door opened wide to reveal what must be the greatest layout of tonnage ever assembled for the training of the human being.

On racks angled against the wall were dumbbells that went in five-pound jumps from ten pounds to 300 pounds. I didn’t want to meet the one who used 300-pound dumbbells in his workout. In the center were racks that contained curling bars that went in five-pound jumps from forty to 300 pounds.

“Bob,” I asked, “who could ever curl a 300-pound bar?”

“Paul Anderson did it,” he said without hesitation. I decided not to ask anymore dumb questions.

As I looked around I saw the Big Rope, which is the world’s largest rope climb. I tried to figure out who would have hands big enough to hold on to it, much less climb it. Bob started showing us around.

“Now, here is the world’s largest dipping rack,” he said as we went over to a set of bars I was told measured twelve feet long.

“What are the wheels under the bars for?” asked Art.

“To hold the weights when you’re through,” said Bob. “Now here is the big hook we use to hold the weights around the lifter’s waist.” With that he showed us a hook attached to a belt. “The hook alone weighs seventy-five pounds.”

Next we came to the big lat machine; the cable had a five-ton test. After seeing what I had so far, I wondered if that was strong enough. The weight-holding apparatus alone was a 100-pound anchor. At the far end of the gym was one of the greatest assortments of odd lift weights I have ever seen.

A power rack nearby had lights that flashed red when you stepped under the bar to let people know a strongman was ready to lift. A row of benches made just for bench pressing was next. And on a platform was the heaviest bench in the world weighing 652 pounds. It was complete with a seat for the spotter.

Zeller then asked for a drink, and laughingly remarked, “At the big fountain.”

Zuver pointed toward the world’s biggest fountain. That’s right—it was a fire hose.
“That’s the big scale there,” said Bob, “and here we have the world’s largest squat rack.”

He led us to what looked like some medieval torture device. When you stand inside its confines, red lights blink.

“The bar alone weighs 200 pounds and the whole thing can be loaded to a ton.”

“Isn’t that pretty dangerous?” I asked. “I mean, who could spot you?”

Zuver didn’t answer. Instead he pressed a button and down came two hooks on some kind of hydraulic lift that grabbed the weight and lifted it clear of the man using it.

Bob could see the look on my face. “Look,” he said with a smile, “I know this is all a little kooky, but why should we take training so seriously. Let’s have fun while we work out.”

This was all we needed to relax. I found Bob Zuver was one of the finest and most sincere men I have ever met. He is an ordained evangelist minister who quite literally practices what he preaches. He feels Christ is the answer and goes out to the youth with the word of God for the soul and barbells for the body.

Looking around all these weights I had to ask, “Bob, who can lift all this iron?”

“You mean do we have men strong enough to lift big?”

I nodded.

“Well, a gym member by the name of Wayne Coleman loaded so much weight on the lat machine that he couldn’t lift it.”

“See!” I said.

“So,” continued Bob, “he just bent the bar around his neck.”

I cleared my throat. “Okay.”

Then I spotted a giant weight that was tagged The Blob. “What’s that for and who can lift it?”

“It’s for one-arm deadlifts, weighs over 500 pounds and I can lift it.” With that he took hold and proved he was as good as his word.

At that moment a group of men smartly dressed in Zuver lifting outfits entered the gym for a training session. We were introduced to the team captain, Bill Witting, who introduced us to the rest of the crew, Rudy Lozano, Jim Waters, Willie Kindred and Chester Horvath. Not present were such power stars as the 165-pound California champ, Leonard Ingro, and the 181-pound national squat record holder, Tom Overholtzer, who can pound out 575 pounds in that lift.

“That’s quite a team,” said Art.

Bob nodded. “I just hope one day very soon we’ll hold the national team championship.”

We walked outside again and I asked Bob about his future plans.

“The next thing we have planned is an outdoor training area under a cliff-like overhang called the Cave. Then there are the plateaus in which the men will be training on these cliffs and descend from them by fire poles.”

At one time, I would have thought he was kidding, but after seeing what I just had, I didn’t even blink.

We said goodbye and I was reluctant to leave. It had been a memorable experience. I had seen a gym that was unique in all the world, Zuver’s Hall of Fame Gym, but what was more important, I had been privileged to meet a fine man who was dedicating his life to the youth of his country.

Excerpted from
West Coast Bodybuilding Scene
by Dick Tyler

Read Dr. Ken Leistner's
Memories of Zuver's Hall of Fame Gym

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West Coast Bodybuilding Scene